Harry Potter was back in his own private hell. Or more specifically, he was back at number four, Privet Drive, the home of his only living relatives, the Dursleys. And those relatives were being even more obnoxious than usual.

From the moment Uncle Vernon had picked Harry up from King's Cross Station at the beginning of the summer holidays, Harry could tell that things were not going to be pleasant-or even barely tolerable-for the next eight weeks. Starting the holidays in this depressed frame of mind was  guarantee enough that Harry would be more than miserable, even without his relatives' anti-Harry attitudes.

So the committee of concerned friends that had greeted his arrival at King's Cross with the specific intention of lecturing Uncle Vernon on the ‘rules' governing Harry's summer break, whilst lifting his heart a little, was the death knell to a break where he may have been left reasonably well alone. Uncle Vernon did not take well to threats, even from wizards. His home was his castle and he would act within that castle as he saw fit, even if some of those actions included the abuse of his nephew.

Harry had received a few hidings over the years, but not that many more perhaps than a lot of kids received from an irate parent. It was the mental and verbal abuse that so far in his life had caused the most damage. It had wormed its way deep into his psyche and, though sensibly he now knew he was not a freak, or abnormal, those highly nasty barbs had embedded deeply, and over the years they had festered. Every summer, they would be reactivated by the relentless stream of nastiness that spewed from the mouths of his aunt and uncle, and his cousin.

This year however, things were going to be different. Harry discovered this unpleasant fact as soon as he and the Dursleys had escaped the station and the platform full of ‘freaks' and reached the car. After Harry had stowed his heavy, cumbersome trunk and his owl's empty cage in the boot of the car with no assistance from the two hulking males who stood and watched him, Uncle Vernon, checking to make sure there were no witnesses, gave Harry a back hander across the face that sent him sprawling onto the road, skinning his elbow and his cheek where they made contact with the dirty bitumen.

Dudley had stood there with a malicious smirk on his fat face as his enraged, purple-faced father had straddled Harry's cringing form and pointed a great sausage-like finger into his shocked and bleeding face. "Think you can have your mutant friends threaten me, do you boy? You'll be sorry you organised that little committee for ‘the protection of Harry Potter', you'll see if you're not. Now get up and get in the ruddy car and if you get any blood on the upholstery, it'll be all the worse for you."

Harry had scrabbled around trying to find his glasses which had flown off when Uncle Vernon's meaty hand had made contact with his face. With no assistance from the Dursleys it had taken him a good two minutes to locate them-thankfully intact-and scramble into the back of the car next to Dudley. He had had to ask his aunt to pass some tissues back to him so that he could sop up the oozing blood from both his injuries. This she had done without looking at him, all the time staring out of the windscreen in prune-mouthed disapproval. Unlike Dudley she had shown no pleasure in Harry's treatment at the hands of her husband, but she had done nothing to stop it either.

Now, five days on, things had gotten steadily worse for Harry. He always had a great long list of chores to do on a daily basis during the summer break, but this year, Uncle Vernon had invented work that did not really need doing, both inside the house and in the garden. Painting the basement was one such task and it had taken Harry three days to finish. His uncle would inspect the work at intervals over that first weekend, always finding fault and always meting out corporal punishment as a result.

After that first blow in London, the huge man had come to his senses enough to realise that it was best to apply his fists to the parts of Harry's body where the resultant damage would not show. Harry was sure his ribs were bruised at the very least, because he found it difficult to take a deep breath without pain slicing through him.

Dudley of course, no stranger to the game of ‘Flail the Freak', followed his father's lead, and punched Harry on the arms or in the stomach whenever he happened to be near. The one time Harry had retaliated against his much larger cousin, Uncle Vernon had given his nephew his worst beating so far.

When Aunt Petunia unlocked Harry's bedroom door on the fifth morning of the summer in hell, and ordered him to get up in her cold, emotionless voice before stalking off, Harry finished his contemplation of the ceiling and closed his burning eyes in resignation.

Once again, he had only dozed fitfully, too frightened to sleep properly because of the dream that had plagued him for the last two weeks. Last night, however, Harry had been so tired that he had finally succumbed to sleep. Despite fighting the temptation with all his might, his mental and physical exhaustion finally overpowered his will. The dream had been waiting to pounce as soon as his conscious mind shut down, like a malevolent beast waiting patiently for its prey to stumble into its lair.

The dream, as usual, featured a stone amphitheatre with a raised dais in the middle. The dais was topped by a crumbling stone archway, the opening of which was covered by a ragged veil that fluttered infinitesimally in an indiscernible breeze. The silence was eerie.

Suddenly, the chill room was full of furiously duelling people, their wands nothing but blurs as they threw hexes and curses, and tried to dodge the multi hued lights that the wands of their opponents emitted. But the two people fighting on the platform were the ones Harry's eyes were always drawn towards. With his heart in his throat, he again saw the tall, wasted, dark haired man laughing and goading his opponent; he saw him being struck by a curse in the middle of his chest.

 And Harry would once again watch, a silent scream depriving him of much needed oxygen as the man slowly, almost balletically fell backwards in a graceful arc, through the ragged veil which then seemed to sigh its approval before falling back into its soft folds.

That was always the point when Harry was able to release the trapped scream, and his anguish was just as heart rending every night he relived the scene as it had been when he had witnessed the real event. Unable to rouse himself from the fresh horror, Harry had screamed for his Godfather; he had screamed until his throat was on fire and his uncle had come stumping in and pummelled his nephew in the stomach and ribs, and then for good measure-and forgetting his self imposed restriction-he had punched Harry in the face. Harry had seen that ham of a hand coming towards him through tear glazed eyes and had managed to move his head slightly, thereby saving himself the agony of a broken nose. His cheek did not fare as well though, and agony sliced through him every time he moved the muscles in his face.

After Uncle Vernon had stormed out and Aunt Petunia-lips again invisible-had firmly closed and relocked the door, Harry had dragged himself painfully from his bed and had spent the remaining hours of darkness sitting on a chair in front of the window, gazing at the night sky and wondering, through the fresh haze of pain that engulfed him, which of the myriad stars was Sirius.

Only after the sky had turned from black to grey had Harry dared to lay down again. But though he had closed his eyes, deep, refreshing sleep had eluded him. Even if he had not been too frightened to sleep, his battered and aching body would have prevented any real rest.

Now, when Harry attempted to sit up after his aunt's unwelcome appearance, he gasped and fell back again, wrapping his arms around his ribcage and taking shallow breaths until the searing pain faded to what he imagined a knife between his ribs might feel like, instead of a broad sword. Harry felt sure that last night's pummelling from his uncle may have resulted in his already bruised ribs breaking, and slouching in the chair most of the night had not helped. His face, too, still throbbed horribly with every movement he made.

Biting his lip against the pain-and showing the grit and determination that had been the reason the Sorting Hat had put him into Gryffindor-Harry eventually managed to force himself upright. His first and most pressing need was a painful trip to the bathroom where he attended to his ablutions. Then he carefully descended the stairs and entered the kitchen where his aunt sat at the table, reading one of the more lurid gossip magazines, and drinking a cup of tea.

Petunia eyed her nephew coldly, ready to launch into him for taking so long to appear. But the sight of Harry's pale, strained face with its bruised and swollen cheek, courtesy of Vernon's parting punch, made her curb her tongue and instead, she just indicated with an abrupt movement of her head that he get on with cooking the breakfast.

Harry's muscles had loosened up enough to enable him to have Vernon's breakfast on the table before he appeared dressed and ready for work. He had been unable to face any food himself, and was washing the pan in hot, soapy water when Vernon sat down. Luckily, Vernon's tactic that morning was to pretend Harry was invisible and that was exactly the way Harry preferred it. He was surprised though, that the man could not feel the waves of pure hatred that emanated from him.

When he turned to leave the kitchen, Petunia broke off her conversation with her husband and spoke sharply to Harry. "I want your sheets washed today, so strip your bed. And I want that disgusting bird's cage cleaned out too. You can smell it down in the entrance hall, filthy creature that it is."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," came the oft recited mantra. Harry got out before Vernon could add his two bobs worth.

If Harry had hoped that his uncle would forget to leave a list of chores for him that day, he was sadly mistaken. Now that the basement was finally finished to Vernon's satisfaction, he had found plenty of jobs for Harry to do outside. When Harry returned downstairs with his arms full of linen, Petunia  indicated the list on the door of the fridge. Harry read it and groaned. There was enough work here to keep him busy for at least a week, and he was sure Vernon intended him to do it in much less time than that. Even a week would have been pushing it in the physical condition that he was in at the moment.

So, knowing he had no choice, Harry started off by weeding the flower beds in the back yard. He was painfully turning the soil with the spade when Dudley finally made an appearance. Dudley, unlike Harry was allowed to sleep in as long as he liked, so Harry rarely saw him before midday...a circumstance that Harry could not mourn. As it was now only eleven fifteen when the gargantuan boy lumbered across the lawn towards Harry, a great stack of toast balanced on one hand and the other stuffing a slice in his mouth, Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, then winced when his cheek objected to even that movement. He continued doggedly with his task, the sun beating down on his unprotected head and neck.

"Put a bit of backbone into it, Potter." Harry could only understand the sneering words, even though they were spoken through a mouth bulging with toast, because he had become something of an expert at translating Dudley's unique language, as his cousin's mouth was usually packed to exploding point. He made a show of wiping soggy toast crumbs off his face, but Dudley just laughed and held the stack out and waved it under Harry's sunburnt nose.

"Want some?"

Harry automatically slapped the hand away and the toast went flying and landed in the dirt. Because of his sore ribs, he was not fast enough to duck Dudley's fist and the next thing Harry knew, he was flying backwards after the fist connected with his stomach with the force of a battering ram.

He was lying there gasping and trying to get his breath back when Aunt Petunia stood over him and informed him that if he was so blasé about wasting perfectly good food, he could go without lunch.

As Harry had had no desire for food for at least two weeks, he was not particularly fussed by this edict, but by two-thirty that afternoon when he was working in the front garden, he was sorry for his rash actions that morning, as no lunch also meant nothing to drink. And he was extremely thirsty. He couldn't even sneak into the house to get a drink as Aunt Petunia had gone out and locked all the doors, telling him that she would be back in a couple of hours. He had tried drinking out of the front tap but the water was hot and would take forever to cool to barely tepid, and he had seen Mrs Fraser over the road looking at him askance through her front window for wasting water during the current restrictions. He reluctantly turned the tap off. He wouldn't put it past the miserable old bat to ring the inspectors. He miserably returned to his task of weeding around the azaleas in the side garden.

Harry didn't know how long he had been weeding, but when he stood to empty the bucket of weeds into the green waste bin, a wave of dizziness assailed him. To steady himself, he grabbed hold of the fence that divided the Dursley property from number six, and leaned his head on his outstretched arms. He did not see the canary yellow Volkswagen putter into the driveway of number six; he was too busy trying to stop himself from passing out.

"Are you all right?"

 Harry vaguely registered the voice, but it wasn't until he felt a hand on his sweaty back that he shot upright in shock. He moved so quickly, his senses reeled even faster and he had to grab hold of the fence again, or fall over.

Harry heard, "here, come and sit down," and someone was guiding him off the hot concrete onto the cooler lawn and forcing him to sit and put his head down over his crossed legs. Harry floated in and out of a haze, trying desperately to hold onto some semblance of consciousness. He vaguely heard that same voice say something else...he couldn't understand what, and then someone was kneeling behind him with their hand on his burning forehead, gently pulling his head back and pouring something cold into his mouth.

It was a second or two before Harry realised that it was water-cold,  delicious water-and then he started to gulp. More ended up down his chin and soaked into his T-shirt than in his mouth, but the voice said, "slow down," and Harry obeyed.

Finally, the flow stopped and Harry's eyes flickered open. For a moment, he saw white sunbursts as the bright light assailed them. He took his glasses off and attempted to wipe the sweat from around his eyes with an equally sweaty, and decidedly grubby hand.

"Here." The person poured some of the water over his head and after the initial shock where he caught his breath then grunted as his ribs objected, the cold was bliss. He rubbed his hands over his face-very gingerly over his swollen cheek-then dried it with the bottom of his overlarge T-shirt. He had dropped his glasses but before he could start to fumble around for them, they were placed in his hand. He quickly put them on. Now, he could see his saviour.

 A very attractive woman who looked to be in her late twenties was kneeling beside Harry. She smiled. "Hi there."

Harry made to scramble to his feet but the woman put a restraining hand on his knee. "Stay still for another couple of minutes, or you'll fall flat on your face." She smiled again as she peered into Harry's tired, dark rimmed eyes. He saw her eyes narrow as they focused on his grazed and swollen cheek. He turned his head away from her and as his gaze roved about in an embarrassed attempt to avoid looking at the woman, he saw the car parked next door.

Harry's brow creased in confusion. The Hansons, a couple in their fifties' lived at number six, and they drove a metallic blue Ford Escort as far as Harry knew. They were the only neighbours who ever smiled or said hello to Harry when they saw him and this fact alone made them persona non grata as far as the Dursleys were concerned.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage, Harry turned to look at his rescuer. "Umm, thanks a lot for the water. I didn't realise I had been out in the sun for so long."

"You should have been wearing a hat and sunscreen. But even with those aids, it's still not a good idea to be out in the hottest part of the day." She grinned. "Mad dogs and Englishmen, you know." And at Harry's obvious confusion, she added, "Noel Coward."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling stupid. He had heard the saying, of course. It was just that he had not expected to have it tossed at him in the middle of the Dursley's lawn by a beautiful redhead that he didn't know from Adam. Or Eve, for that matter.

Harry made a move to get up. When the woman looked like she might forestall him again, he said quickly, "I think I'll be OK now," and he scrambled to his feet. Unfortunately, he could not suppress a gasp of pain as the twisting movement to get to his knees before pushing to his feet made his sore ribs object strenuously again.

The woman, who was now standing beside him, looked concerned. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," and when that sounded a bit abrupt, Harry quickly added. "Thanks again."

"Would you like me to help you inside?"

Harry's face went even redder under his sunburnt skin. "Um...well...the thing is, my aunt has gone out and she's locked the doors. She didn't think I'd be home till much later."

"So you decided to weed the garden in thirty degree heat instead of sitting and waiting on the front porch."

Harry looked away, embarrassed and uneasy. If the Dursleys found out he was being questioned by...by whom? Who was this woman? "It needed doing," he mumbled inanely. And then, because curiosity had gotten the better of him and he needed to change the subject, he asked, "Are you staying with the Hansons?"

The woman smiled. If she knew he was changing the subject, she let it slide. "Not with the Hansons, no. They're in Australia, staying with their son...my brother. They've been gone for about two months now and should be away for at least another four. I'm their daughter, Erin and I'm house sitting for them." She held out her hand and Harry automatically shook it. "And if Mrs Dursley is your aunt, you must be Harry."

Harry goggled at her and she laughed. "My mum and dad told me all about the neighbours before they left. You're the only one I haven't met."

"Oh," said Harry, and he felt like a total pillock. He wanted to know what the Hansons had told their daughter about the neighbours, but he was too afraid to ask.

"Look," said Erin. ‘It's too hot to stay out here and I was looking forward to a cold glass of coke after a terribly stressful day's shopping." She took Harry's arm in a firm grip and began to guide him  across the lawn towards number six. "You can't get inside your house, so you can keep me company until your aunt gets home." Harry moved like an automaton. He didn't have the strength to resist the determined woman guiding him along.

Before he knew it, Harry was standing next to the yellow ‘Beetle' and was being loaded up with shopping bags that Erin was dragging out of the car. "Shopping is thirsty work even inside an air-conditioned mall," she prattled on and when she ushered him into the cool entrance hall of number six, he nearly sagged with relief. It was so good to be out of the sun. His skin was already tightening up painfully.

Erin unburdened Harry of his load and placed the bags at the foot of the stairs. Then she  gently pushed him towards a shut door at the end of the hallway. "That's the downstairs bathroom. Go and have a cool wash. The towel and face washer are fresh." She waved her hand around airily.

"This is a mirror image of your aunt and uncles house, so I'm sure you'll find the kitchen." Her beautiful smile lit her face again. "Take your time." The woman was a force to be reckoned with and at the moment Harry had neither the will, nor the inclination to argue with her. He gazed after her as she headed for the kitchen, liking the way the filmy green top floated around her and the short white skirt allowed two shapely calves to be displayed to advantage as she walked away from him.

Harry shook his head bemusedly as he opened the bathroom door. Maybe he was hallucinating and he would find himself in the Dursley's fussy downstairs bathroom. But after dashing cool water over his hot face, the bathroom retained its pristine white tiles and fittings and its sunny yellow walls; a nice fresh change from aunt Petunia's apricot floral wallpaper, the fussy mirror with bits of dried flora stuck to it hanging above the hand basin, and the bowls of little soaps and coloured cottonballs occupying the glass shelf below the mirror. Aunt Petunia loved knick knacks, and there was crap everywhere you looked in the house Harry had to call home every summer. He found he liked the minimalist décor of number six a lot better.

Five minutes later, Harry entered the kitchen. His quick glimpse of the living room as he walked past showed him that like the bathroom, the walls were painted rather than wallpapered, the floor was polished timber instead of shag pile carpet, and the furniture was light and comfortable looking rather than bulky and floral. Best of all, of course, was the fact that Dudley's beach ball head wasn't staring at him from every square inch of wall. The dining alcove and the kitchen reflected the same light airiness as the rest of the house.

His very attractive saviour was standing at the kitchen bench constructing a huge sandwich. It was a few seconds before she realised that Harry was there and he had time to study her unobserved. She was slender and petite, maybe an inch or two shorter than he was (somehow, over the school year he had grown about five inches) and her skin had a healthy golden tan. Her hair was a beautiful golden-red-lighter than the Weasley red-and it was caught back in a pony tail that fell to her shoulder blades. Earlier he had seen that her eyes were green...not the deep emerald green of his own eyes, but a lighter green that reminded Harry of the colour of the water in the lake at Hogwarts, just below the surface where the sun penetrated...a sort of a misty, dappled green. In short, she was one of the prettiest women Harry had ever met. In fact, she reminded him of a more mature Ginny Weasley in a lot of ways.

Erin looked up at that moment and smiled widely at Harry. He saw that she wasn't really like Ginny, except for the fact that they were both petite. Ginny's skin was paler and her eyes were brown. Erin had more freckles and of course her hair was  lighter.

"I thought you might be hungry," she said in a matter of fact voice. And for the first time in many days, Harry found he did actually feel hungry. Two tall glasses of Coke sat fizzing on the table, blocks of ice bobbing on the surface of the black liquid. His hostess indicated that Harry sit down, and then she joined him and placed the delicious looking sandwich in front of him.

"You need fattening up," she said seriously. "You just need a bit of meat on your bones and the girls will be beating down your door. Or are they doing that already?"

Harry thought his head would explode, he was so embarrassed. Erin looked a little chagrined. "Sorry, Harry. I always start talking before I put my brain into gear. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Harry's didn't want her to be embarrassed on his account. His mouth quirked at the corner in a half smile. "That's OK. You didn't embarrass me," he lied. 

She beamed at him and indicated that he start his sandwich. He had never tasted anything quite so delicious. Erin watched with satisfaction as he quickly polished off the first half of the huge dagwood that was made up of multi-grained bread and generous amounts of ham and cheese, tomato and lettuce. When he finished, he reached for his drink and drained half the contents. He rarely had soft drink and he found the cola delicious and refreshing.

He had just put his glass back on the table when a sleek, small cat jumped up onto the chair next to him. Harry smiled and reached across and stroked her head. When she gently butted his hand, he transferred his attention to under her chin where he scratched until she began to purr loudly and contentedly. She was very pretty with pumpkin coloured eyes, and jet black fur. She also had a luxurious bottlebrush tail that Crookshanks would be envious of.

"This is Pumpkin, Harry. And you've just made yourself a friend for life. She just loves to have her chin scratched but it has to be done just so...and it looks like you have the magic touch." Harry's hand jerked at the mention of the word ‘magic' but Pumpkin quickly distracted him by planting herself on his lap and settling in for the long haul, kneading herself a comfortable spot with her front paws.

"She's beautiful," said Harry, grinning at the cat. "Pumpkin's a perfect name for her with those orange eyes."

"Exactly what I thought when I first saw her. It couldn't be anything else but Pumpkin. And, it turned out that she agreed with me." Harry laughed. He kept his eyes on the cat for a few seconds before glancing up through his messy, still slightly sweaty fringe. He was curious.

"Umm...your mum and Dad have lived here for about eight years. I don't remember seeing you before, though."

Erin took a sip of her drink. "That's because when Mum and Dad moved here from Essex, I decided I'd head out to Australia to stay with my older brother and his wife and kids for a while. I met my husband over there and settled down for what I thought would be forever." She shrugged. "Forever turned out to be less than three years. I stayed there for a while longer because of my job, but I was getting home sick for England.

"I've been back for six months now and when Mum and Dad decided to finally bite the bullet and go for the long-promised visit; I said I would house sit while they were away."

Harry looked down at his plate. The rest of his sandwich was waiting patiently to be eaten, but Harry was no longer hungry. He started rolling some crumbs together under his finger. Pumpkin butted his other hand and he automatically started scratching under her chin again.

"I'm sorry about your marriage," Harry mumbled and Erin smiled and reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Thanks, Harry. That's really nice of you but I'm totally over it now." She saw Harry wince slightly when she squeezed his hand. Instead of relinquishing it when his face reddened with embarrassment, she turned it over and forced his fingers open. She had put pressure on a broken blister that had developed on the palm of his hand from all his digging that morning. Erin winced in sympathy.

"Ouch. That looks sore. Finish your sandwich and I'll get something to put on it."

"No, really its fine," protested Harry but Erin ignored him and jumped up from her chair. She crossed the kitchen to forage in the high cupboard over the stove top. Harry sighed but he took another bite of his sandwich as per her instructions. He had to admit that even though he was embarrassed by the unsolicited attention, it was quite nice to be made a fuss off for a change.

Erin came back and placed two tubes of ointment on the table. "When you've finished eating, we'll attend to your war wounds. That includes your sunburn."

Harry took another small bite of the sandwich and chewed mechanically. If the truth was known, he was feeling really full all of a sudden. He supposed his stomach had shrunk because he had hardly eaten anything at all lately.

Harry eyed the two tubes of ointment warily. How was he going to get out of this without hurting his new friend's feelings. He picked up his drink and gulped the remainder down.

Erin plonked herself down in Pumpkin's vacated chair and she pulled it closer to Harry. Without preamble, she peeled his hand off the wet glass he was now clutching and tried to turn it over. Harry resisted and Erin looked at him and laughed teasingly. "Oh, come on Harry. Be a brave boy. I'm not going to hurt you."

Harry flushed even redder than his sunburn. He felt about four years old. "That's not the problem," he said, more than a little peeved that she would think he was scared. "Of course I'm not scared you'll hurt me." He twisted his hand out of her grip and quickly tickled the top of Pumpkin's head to cover his abrupt rejection of her help. Erin looked at him questioningly.

"It's just...well it's just that I'm allergic to a lot of things and I have to be really careful about anything that I might want to use on my skin." He was inventing wildly, but he didn't know what else to say. He really did not take too kindly to Muggle remedies. He looked up at her through his messy fringe.

"It's really cool of you to try to help me. I really appreciate it," he hurriedly tacked on.

"Umm, that's a pretty lame story, Harry," said Erin, eyeing him sceptically. But she smiled to take any sting out of her words. "My experience of boys of all ages is that they will do or say anything to avoid being fussed over or coddled."

Harry looked miserably at the remains of his sandwich. "No, really. I promise you that I would use the cream if I could."

Erin reached over and took up one of the two tubes. "OK Harry, I believe you. But this stuff for your sunburn should be OK to use. It's practically pure aloe vera and I've never heard of anyone being allergic to aloe vera. It's really mild and gentle and natural. And it works wonders for the pain of sunburn." Erin twisted the small tube in her hands and Harry watched her movements with a frown on his face.

"Why weren't you wearing a hat Harry? And why didn't you use sun screen?" She ducked her head so that she could see Harry's eyes, hidden beneath his fringe. "And how did you get that bruise on your face?"

"I fell over. And I can't use sunscreen," he said perfectly truthfully. He had nicked some from the bathroom once when he knew that he would be out in the sun for a while, and he had come out in huge blisters wherever he had applied the stuff.

The conversation was getting a little too personal and So Harry pushed himself painfully up from the chair, forgetting Pumpkin for a second and tipping her unceremoniously onto the floor. She looked at him reproachfully before stalking off in high dudgeon. "Thanks for the sandwich and the drink. You've been great, but I'd better get home. My aunt should be back by now."

Before Erin could respond, Harry was walking (rather stiffly, as his muscles had started to seize up again now that he had been sitting for a while) down the hall to the front door. Erin followed him.

When Harry pulled the door open, she put her hand on his arm to stop him hurrying off. "It's been really great meeting you, Harry." She put the  tube of aloe vera in his hand and closed his fingers over it. "Take this with you and try it on a tiny bit of skin on your arm first. If you don't have a reaction, slather it on after your shower. It really works." Harry nodded his thanks and stuffed the tube into a capacious pocket of Dudley's old cargo pants.

He had taken two steps when Erin said, "Oh and Harry..." Harry looked back. "I'd really like you to call me Erin."

Harry smiled, some of his tension melting away. He nodded his head in acknowledgement but he was surprised to see the smile fade from Erin's face and a coolness enter her eyes that he had not seen before. She was looking past Harry. He spun around, hissing with pain and grabbing his ribs when his ribs protested.

Dudley and two of his bullying, toe rag cronies, Piers and Malcolm were standing at the end of the little pathway that led to the Hanson's front door. All three had lascivious smirks on their gormless faces. Harry groaned inwardly.

Great, he thought. Just what I need. Dudley will tell his mum and dad I'm friendly with the new neighbour and I'll really be in for it.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been livid when the older Hansons had obviously not believed their story that Harry was a juvenile delinquent who could not be trusted, and had continued to be nice to him. To add insult to injury, it was quite apparent that it was Dudley that they believed to be the delinquent. This opinion had put the pleasant couple forever beyond Vernon and Petunia's forgiveness, a circumstance for which the Hansons cared not one whit.

"Good afternoon Ms Hanson," said Dudley in his smarmiest voice. "I see you've met my cousin."

Determined not to play the horrible boy's game, Erin answered sweetly. "Good afternoon, Dudley...boys. Yes, Harry and I met this afternoon. He was working like a navvy, so I thought I would offer him a drink. Your mother seems  inadvertently to have locked him out of the house."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned softly. Erin could not know that Harry would be lucky to survive the night when word of this conversation got back to Uncle Vernon-and it would. 

Erin continued, blithely unaware of Harry's dilemma. "I was surprised you weren't helping Harry, Dudley? The work could have been done in half the time and then maybe Harry could have joined you and your friends on this fine summer's afternoon and had some fun. You look like you've been enjoying yourself."

Dudley's smile slipped a little but he hitched it back into place quickly. "Harry was being punished, Miss, and Mum locked him out of the house while she went shopping because he can't be trusted not to steal stuff. You know he goes to ‘St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal boys'."

Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at Dudley and his fists clenched at his sides. How dare Dudley make a fool of him in front of  Erin. What if she believed him? Would he ever be able to have a friend in the Muggle world without Dudley spoiling everything?

The anger welled up uncontrollably and when he took a step towards the three bigger boys, his fury and frustration seemed to erupt out of him with a force that made the three bullies stagger back several steps, their hair and clothes blowing wildly around them and the bushes lining the driveway behind them swaying frantically as if in the path of a violent gale.

Dudley's two bodyguards looked around, their gormless faces as shocked as Erin's was at the sudden change in the atmosphere. But Dudley was backing away from his cousin, his face slack with sudden fear. He pointed a shaking finger at Harry who was now standing as if turned to stone, his face pale under the sunburn.

"I...I'll tell Dad," he stuttered.

When Erin came back to the moment and tried to put her hand on Harry's arm to let him know she did not believe a word Dudley had uttered, he pulled away, said a curt, "Thanks again Miss Hanson," without looking at her then stalked quickly past Dudley and his cohorts in crime. Erin followed his progress with worried eyes.

Harry was actually quite as scared as he had looked in Erin's front yard. He had done magic outside of school again. Accidental, to be sure but the Ministry did not seem to differentiate where he was concerned. An owl could even now be winging its way to him from the ‘Improper Use of Magic' office. After the fiasco of his hearing at the ministry last August Harry was in no hurry to repeat the experience. True, last year's transgression far outweighed today's small misdemeanour; he had actually used his wand then, even if it was in an effort to save both himself and Dudley.  But Harry wouldn't put it past Fudge to try and get him expelled again, even though the fool could no longer deny that Voldemort had returned.

All these thoughts crowded Harry's already teeming mind when he entered number four. It did not even register with him that Aunt Petunia had returned from her shopping trip until she stopped him from ascending the stairs where he had planned to have a shower before Uncle Vernon got home.

"Where have you been?" she asked in the cold voice she always adopted whenever she addressed her nephew. Before Harry had a chance to answer her, the front door was thrown open and Dudley came hurtling through. When he saw his mother and Harry, the look of fear that had appeared when he had been buffeted by the storm of Harry's emotions turned, to sadistic anticipation.

Harry groaned inwardly as he slumped against the banister for support. If he didn't sit down in a minute, he would fall down. He was dizzy and he was finding it difficult to take a deep breath as the pain in his ribs seemed to have intensified again...maybe it was the stress of the last few minutes and his burst of wild magic. He thought dimly that he might have a touch of sun stroke.

"Mum, the freak was next door with Ms Hanson! He was in her house and he did magic in front of her and Piers and Malcolm," said Dudley with breathless glee.

Petunia's mouth dropped open in horror. "You used that-that thing in front of other people?" What little colour there was in the pallid woman's face had receded. Vernon's and her greatest fear was that the normal people they lived near would find out their terrible secret...that they had a wizard living in their home and that their was such a thing as magic-a fact that they blocked out of their conscious mind whenever they could.

"I didn't use my wand," said Harry tiredly. "I just got a little over emotional when Dudley started bad mouthing me." He knew Aunt Petunia would not care whether he had been able to control the magic or not. Just as he knew that as soon as Uncle Vernon walked in the door, he would be told all the scandalous details and that he, Harry would suffer accordingly.

Even if Aunt Petunia bit her tongue and refrained from telling her husband because she knew that another beating would be the consequence-and she already knew that Harry was suffering more than a little as a result of the previous punishments-Dudley would have no such compunction.

"Go to your room!" Petunia's pointed up the stairs and her whole body was shaking with fury. "Why can't you just do what you're told to do and be quiet and stay out of everyone's way the rest of the time?"

"Because it wouldn't matter what I did or how quiet I was! Your shite of a husband would find some reason to attack me," yelled Harry and he had to wrap his arm around his ribs as the pain stabbed him. "He enjoys hitting me, Aunt Petunia. Haven't you worked that one out yet?" Harry turned and dragged himself the rest of the way up the stairs.

In his room he grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. If he didn't shower now, he wouldn't be able to after Uncle Vernon had finished with him. But much to Harry's surprise, there was no warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and other than a prolonged rant and the instruction that he not inflict his company on them that evening, Uncle Vernon did not touch Harry. He had no doubt that his uncle's forbearance was entirely due to his aunt's interference. Harry found it difficult to feel gratitude though. It was too little, too late.

Of course, they conveniently forgot to feed Harry that evening but he really did not care. He lay on his bed, more apathetic than usual, but perhaps not in quite as much pain from his sunburn as he could have been because he had used Erin's aloe vera gel and it had worked as well as she said it would. He remembered, as if from another life, using aloe vera in a couple of healing potions back in his third year.

Unfortunately thinking of potions inevitably led to thoughts of  the Potions Master at Hogwarts, Severus Snape. Harry had hated the man from the moment he had first set foot inside his classroom nearly six years ago-a feeling more than reciprocated by Snape-but that hatred had increased a hundredfold since the events of a couple of weeks ago. Harry would never forget or forgive Snape's involvement in Sirius' death.

Harry knew that if Snape had given him some sign that he had understood his frantic signal in Umbridge's office, then he would not have gone haring off to London, and as a result put his friends' lives in danger and caused Sirius' death. Yep, it was a difficult decision to decide which one of the two pillocks he hated the most...Vernon Dursley or Severus Snape.

Harry closed his eyes and at this moment, feeling as lousy as he did, he wished that he was dead. He wished that he could join Sirius and his parents wherever they were because right now, being here, and being the sodding ‘Boy Who Lived' so that he could either kill or be killed by sodding Voldemort-and therefore fulfil a bloody prophecy that had he but known it, had ruled his life since the day he had been born-filled him with fear and despair.

His whole life had been pre-ordained, and he had always been jerked around like a puppet on a string by the adults in his life. For the first time since finding out that he was a wizard, Harry wished heartily that he wasn't.

Harry did not think that the wish to want to be with his parents and his Godfather was so very strange, but despite this sometimes overwhelming desire, he had to admit that the thought of dying scared him senseless. And as there was no way in hell that he had the sort of power needed to defeat the greatest dark wizard the world had ever seen, then he was going to die...and probably soon because Voldemort was really pissed off with him for destroying the record of the bloody prophecy.

Harry pressed the heel of his hands hard into his eyes in an effort to stave off the angry tears that wanted to well up. Then, carefully, he turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around his injured ribs, and closing his eyes, he tried not to feel too sorry for himself.

8888

Over The next couple of days, the Dursleys left Harry alone (except for Dudley who would bang loudly on Harry's bedroom door every time he walked past it). Mostly Harry just lay on his bed staring at the crack in the ceiling or dozing fitfully. He didn't even bother going down for meals. Just before dinner the day following his meeting with Erin, Aunt Petunia appeared at his bedroom door to insist that he come down for a meal.

"Those freaks are not going to say we don't feed you on top of everything else," she informed him, looking as if she had swallowed a lemon. Harry looked at her with dull, listless eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

"How can you not be hungry?" she asked acerbically. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday." She paused and her lips almost disappeared before she spoke again. Harry had often pondered how anyone could possibly talk without any lips but his aunt managed admirably, even if her speech did sound like a slow leaking tyre puncture.

"I suppose that red-headed woman with that horde of children is sending you food again. I know she has in the past." Harry would have rolled his eyes had he had the energy.

"Yeah, that's right. Mrs Weasley is sending me food," he said disinterestedly before returning to his contemplation of the ceiling.

"Fine!" Petunia swept away in high dudgeon, almost as if it upset her that Harry preferred Molly Weasley's cooking to her own.

Harry had not been getting food from Mrs Weasley, not this year. Every day, an owl would arrive either from either the Burrow, Hermione or Moony, checking up on him, and every couple of days Harry forced himself to write a brief note back to one or the other of them saying he was fine and that he was being treated OK.

He knew that his short, uninformative missives would probably worry everyone nearly as much as not hearing from him at all, but it was all he could stir himself do to. He had to do at least that much because Uncle Vernon was on his case to ‘keep those freaks informed that you are healthy and well'. Vernon did not trust Harry not to send secret tales of torture and starvation, and so he insisted on reading Harry's letters before they were sealed and sent.

Despite his lethargy, Harry eventually found himself going a little stir crazy, and so, the afternoon following Aunt Petunia's tirade, he forced himself to go for a walk. His ribs still hurt but not quite as badly as they had. Still, he had to move carefully. For nearly forty-eight hours the longest walk he had taken was to the bathroom and back and all he had ingested since the half sandwich at Erin's house was water.

So it was no surprise when halfway down the stairs, a wave of dizziness struck and Harry had to grab the banister with both hands and sit down with his head resting against his upraised arms where he still clung to the railing. After several minutes everything stopped spinning and he was able to stand again, albeit a little unsteadily. He made it out the front door without encountering any of his relatives; a lucky happenstance for which he offered up a quick prayer of thanks.

With his hands thrust deep in the pockets of Dudley's old cargo pants and his head lowered, Harry slopped along in his overlarge trainers until he had left Privet Drive behind. He had no particular destination in mind and so he headed in the direction of the park, quickly passing the mouth of the alleyway that formed the shortcut between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent, the place where the two Dementors had attacked Dudley and himself the previous summer. The memory of that horrible evening still gave Harry goosebumps.

When he finally reached the park, Harry saw that several kids were playing on the equipment and so he kept on walking. The day was overcast and quite cold for July (certainly a lot cooler than it had been the last time he had been outside working in the garden) and eerie tendrils of stormy grey-coloured mist kept on wrapping themselves around Harry's body before dissipating entirely.

He looked around. The mist could be seen everywhere. It was not actually fog, but patches of damp haziness that could be seen floating everywhere and Harry shivered, glad he was wearing a hoody.

Harry did not know how long he had been walking; he seemed to be on automatic pilot. He just hoped that he could tire himself out enough so that he could get a couple of hours of decent sleep.

When a car eased towards the gutter and kept pace with him, Harry did not immediately realise, so immersed was he in his thoughts. He did not even register the female voice calling his name until it was repeated a little more loudly.

Harry looked up to find Erin grinning at him through the rolled down passenger window of her jaunty, yellow VW. He stepped closer to the car and smiled back. "Hi."

"How are you Harry?"

"Fine thanks. Um-the Aloe Vera was great for my sunburn by the way."

"I'm glad. There's no danger of you getting sunburnt today. How miserable is this weather? It's nearly as cold as the middle of winter." As if on cue, Harry shivered and huddled further into his worn, overlarge hoody.

Erin came to one of her lightening fast decisions. "I'm just heading off to the mall for a bit of lunch. I'd love some company."

The smile slid off Harry's face and he looked down at his overlarge trainers. "Um, thanks but I haven't got any money on me. I'm not really dressed for the shops anyway."

Erin had seen the state of Harry's clothes the day that she had met him and she had known then that the finely built boy was wearing his cousin's hand-me-downs. The hoody he had on now was so large it was difficult to see the outline of his body under its enveloping folds. She seethed inwardly and wondered how Petunia Dursley could allow a child that she was responsible for to be seen in public in the worn and too large clothes that Harry wore. Especially when it was obvious that money was not an issue when her son wore nothing but expensive designer gear.

She found it hard to believe that both boys lived in the same household. She knew that the Dursley's were Harry's guardians because her parents had told her as much. So how they could so obviously make flesh of one boy and fish of the other was beyond her comprehension.

But of course, they also made up lies about Harry being a delinquent when she would bet her entire year's wages that Harry was a kind and considerate boy, and that if there was a delinquent in the Dursley household, it was Dudley. She had seen him around the neighbourhood with a gang of no less than five other boys. Once, she had seen them commandeering the playground equipment whilst several younger children had stood at a distance, too frightened to go any closer.

And she knew for a fact that Dudley smoked. He probably drank alcohol too, because she had once found some empty Jack Daniels cans on her front lawn, and as Privet Drive was not exactly a bustling thoroughfare, and Dudley had been home for the Christmas break and she had heard him and his cronies outside late the night before, she had drawn her own conclusions.

It was obvious to her that Harry was an unwelcome addition to the Dursley household and the poor boy certainly seemed to be far from overjoyed to be there. She had more than a niggling suspicion that he was ill-treated also. She remembered the state of his face the other day and how gingerly he had moved. Then there was the fact that he had been slaving in the garden during the hottest part of the day with no hat or sunscreen for protection, and he had been on the verge of collapse when she had first seen him.

Erin snapped out of her reverie when Harry muttered a reluctant, "See you," and turned to walk back in the direction of Privet drive. Erin was having none of that. She quickly put the car in neutral and pulled on the handbrake before jumping out and running to catch up with Harry. She had a hold of his arm and was pulling him back to the car before he knew what was happening.

"I won't take no for an answer Harry. I hate eating out alone. I always feel so conspicuous and as I'm hungry, I choose you to be the gentleman who keeps me company."

Harry blinked dazedly. The woman was like a human steam-roller, squashing flat any and all objections. Before he knew it, he had been thrust into Erin's car and they were heading towards Tescoes. He found that he could not muster any resentment towards her high handed attitude though. After all, what red-blooded teenage male would not be happy (and a tad smug) to be spending time in the company of such an attractive older woman.

8888

Tescoes was as usual, bustling. As Harry and Erin crossed the car park, Harry tried surreptitiously to flatten his hair; as usual the effort was a pointless waste of time. Erin didn't say anything, but her heart bled for the young boy as she watched his efforts to improve his untidy appearance. Her anger against the Dursleys intensified as Harry tried to anchor those ridiculous pants around his slim waist-a pointless exercise when even the tail of the belt he had poked an extra hole in nearly encircled his torso a second time.

Erin put her arm through Harry's and smiled brightly when he looked at her. "Just making sure the world knows that you're my date," she said, and Harry's face flared with uncomfortable heat. He relaxed a little though when Erin led him to a booth where he could slide right up against the wall, hidden from any condemnatory eyes that judged on appearance alone.

When Erin asked Harry what he would like to eat he made a pretence of studying the menu. In truth, the thought of food made him want to heave but he was right to think Erin would override him if he said he wasn't hungry. So he ordered a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of coke.

Five minutes later Erin returned with a tray laden with food and drinks. Harry found, along with his sandwich, a huge bowl of chips set down in front of him. The smell of the chips turned his stomach and he had to take several deep breaths to fight back the nausea. He grinned weakly at his companion and Erin beamed at him.

"You need feeding up young Harry. I'm chuffed to be sitting eating my lunch with such a dashing date but just between you and me, I like a man with just a little more meat on his bones. It will be my mission to fatten you up before you go back to school next term."

Harry's cheeks bloomed with more spectacular colour during this speech. He wished she wouldn't say things like that. He knew what he looked like...after all he did look in the mirror occasionally.

"Come on...eat up," ordered Erin and there was a determined glint in her eye. For some reason or other, this woman who had not known Harry from Adam three days ago, seemed to have taken his welfare to heart. With another pained grin, he picked up half of the sandwich and took a small bite.

Erin kept up a steady stream of conversation that did not require much effort on Harry's part. He was happy to look at her and listen to her animated voice, and though he really couldn't come at the chips he did manage to eat most of one half of the sandwich. There was something about Erin Hanson that made him feel good about himself.

Harry's brow creased as a thought occurred to him. "Um...Erin, what's your surname?"

Erin smiled. "I kept my surname when I got married, Harry. So, its Hanson."

Harry was laughing at one of Erin's amusing anecdotes about life in Australia and she was delighted to see him so totally relaxed. She was practically mesmerized by the sparkle in those amazingly gorgeous emerald eyes. She could not believe just how quickly this underfed, scruffy, but oh so adorable adolescent male had gotten under her skin. As a teacher she had tried not to have favourites amongst her students and on the whole she had succeeded. It wasn't always easy because some children were needier than others and whilst some of them held themselves aloof, others seemed to need extra attention...extra caring.

Harry was one of the ones who held himself slightly aloof whilst projecting an unmistakable need for approval. Erin felt an overwhelming desire to scoop him up, feed him and protect him from the big, bad world. Somehow, she knew that this young boy's life so far had been full of trials and tribulations and that he had more or less coped alone. It was obvious that those relatives did not give him any of the love or support that he needed. She wanted to give him what those Dursley horrors didn't; she wanted to make him feel that he did not have to cope alone, which was totally ridiculous because she supposed the boy would be leaving again for his boarding school in a few weeks and she may never see him again.

Erin's eyes reflected the inexplicable affection she felt as she watched Harry raise the large glass of coke to his lips. She saw his eyes widen and the heavy glass slip through his fingers and spill its remaining contents across the table. Luckily, there was only a small amount of drink left and Erin's quick action with some paper napkins stopped any liquid dripping off the table's surface and into Harry's lap. But the noise of the heavy glass hitting the Formica topped table had caused quite a few pairs of eyes to look in their direction, including those belonging to the two people who had been the cause of Harry's uncharacteristic clumsiness.

Petunia and Dudley Dursley gaped at the sight of Harry sitting in a booth with their very attractive next door neighbour. Oh, how Harry wished that he had his invisibility cloak, particularly when Aunt Petunia's shock turned to tight lipped rage and Dudley's to narrow-eyed, malicious glee. Harry could see what his nasty shite of a cousin was thinking. Apart from the fact that he had something to tell his father that would ultimately cause Harry pain, Dudley's dirty mind was turning Harry's friendship with Erin into something sordid.

Erin had turned around to see what had Harry looking so horrified. Considering how upset Harry was, she wasn't really all that surprised to see the Dursleys. Petunia was white with suppressed rage and Dudley was leering at her in the way she had come to expect from him. The large, unattractive boy really gave her the creeps. She did not think she had ever felt quite so revolted by a sixteen year old in her life and her work as a teacher had put her in the path of many unpleasant teens.

Harry had been worried that people would condemn him for his overlarge clothes but no-one had looked at him askance. People were, however, gawking openly at the sight of the stick thin, Petunia Dursley standing protectively close to her whale-sized offspring

When Petunia put a claw-like hand on her super-sized son's arm to drag him away, some devil took hold of Erin and she found herself addressing her neighbours. "Mrs Dursley, Dudley...what a small world. Won't you join us?" She was sorry when she felt Harry's appalled gaze on her face but it was too late now, and besides, she really wanted to show this nasty pair that Harry had a firm friend and ally in her.

"I'm sorry for kidnapping your nephew," Erin continued blithely. "I hadn't realised that you had plans today and it obviously slipped Harry's mind as well." She threw a bright smile at Harry who looked, she noted sadly, as though he would quite like to disappear. Little did Erin know, that was exactly what Harry was wishing and if he had known how to Apparate, he most certainly would have and damn the laws against underage sorcery.

"Please, join us." Harry heard the words and hoped that this whole scenario was a bad dream and that he would wake up in very short order. It had been such a lovely dream before the Dursleys had appeared, featuring just himself and Erin. A quick sideways glance showed him that two of the Dursleys were indeed there. His head drooped as if it had suddenly become far too heavy for his neck.

Erin had left Petunia no choice but to accept the pleasantly spoken invitation. The younger woman had spoken loudly enough for many people close by to hear and Petunia knew it would look very strange if she refused to sit with her nephew. Still, she hesitated, clearly torn between the desire to keep up appearances in front of a room full of strangers, and to hurry out and hope no-one would remember her if they ever saw her again. She could, of course change supermarkets. True, Tescoes was the most convenient to home but the next closest was only another couple of miles further away.

Dudley took the decision out of his mother's hands. Pulling his arm out of her grasp, he lumbered across to the booth where Erin and Harry sat. Erin's eyes widened when the obnoxious teen ignored his cousin and squeezed himself onto the bench seat next to her...a situation she had not envisioned. She shrunk against the wall, as far away from the leering boy as she could get.

Petunia had followed in her son's wake and was standing awkwardly at the end of the table, reluctant to seat herself so close to her nephew. Harry kept his eyes averted, concentrating with all his might on fingering a piece of skin that had hardened on the palm of his hand where a blister had broken.

Petunia cleared her throat. "Um...Dudley dear, we really are in rather a hurry." She cast a nasty look at Harry that he missed entirely but which Erin saw. "Unfortunately we wasted a lot of time waiting for Harry to get home." She raised her chin as she looked down at Erin, her expression gloating as her eyes said, ‘I can trump you and your machinations, you damn nuisance of a woman.' Erin raised her eyebrows at the blatant challenge.

"I'm hungry!" Dudley glared at his mother, making it quite clear that he had no intention of leaving any time soon. Petunia opened her mouth to cajole Dudley to leave with her, but the look on her son's face had her clamping her lips back together again before she slipped her skinny frame onto the bench that Harry occupied. She kept her legs to the side rather than slip them under the table, and she kept her bags on her lap.

"Diddy darling...' Petunia's tone was now placatory.

"I'll have two hamburgers with the lot and chips and a chocolate milkshake." Dudley had rudely cut his mother off and Erin's opinion of him being a highly unpleasant boy was reinforced one hundred fold. The grossly obese boy's small, pale blue eyes shifted from his mother's set face to the untouched chips and the remaining half of the toasted sandwich that were still sitting on the table in front of Harry.

"If you're not going to eat that..." and without waiting for Harry's permission, he dragged the plate and bowl towards himself. Erin watched wide eyed, and Harry dispassionately, as Dudley crammed his mouth full. Almost, Erin thought sadly, as if Harry was used to giving up a goodly portion of his food to his cousin.

Petunia watched her son with no trace of the distaste Erin felt as Dudley shovelled the food into his bulging maw. "Hurry up Mum," he ordered, spraying fragments of food across the table because his mouth was so full.

Petunia cast a strained smile at Dudley, then with her face back in its usual lines of discontent she placed her shopping bags on the floor under the table (ignoring the fact that there was plenty of room on the bench next to Harry), slipped the strap of her hand bag over her shoulder and went to line up at the self-serve counter. She had not bothered to ask Erin if she would like a re-fill of her coffee and of course, as Harry had expected, she had ignored him completely.

Erin and Harry were left watching Dudley prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what a total pig he was. When it came to food and eating, Dudley made no attempt to present himself with even the slightest degree of finesse, not even in front of a very attractive young woman. After all this time, Harry still found it incomprehensible that Aunt Petunia could be such a stickler for perfection with everything else but allowed her one and only son to display such appalling greed and barnyard manners.

Erin, making an effort to ignore the sickening display, half turned in her seat to face Dudley. Harry just watched him with the resigned air of someone who had seen it all before-many times.

"So Dudley..." Dudley's eyes swung towards Erin even as he stuffed a final fist full of cold, greasy chips into his mouth. "Why did you feel it necessary to lie to me about Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped to Erin. Oh God, she was again heading into territory that was best left unexplored. He dipped his head towards her and widened his eyes desperately in an effort to communicate, but Erin steadfastly kept her gaze on the larger of the two cousins.

Dudley suddenly looked cornered and he stopped chewing; a bad decision as his mouth was packed to exploding and now he looked like a chipmunk hoarding nuts for the winter in his cheeks.

"Er...wha'd'ya mean?" At least that was what Harry thought his cousin said-it was hard to tell as the words were muffled by the mass of semi-masticated food in his mouth.

"I mean..." stressed Erin, ignoring Harry's silent signals "...you more or less intimated to me that Harry was a juvenile delinquent and that he attended a school called St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. That was a lie, wasn't it Dudley?"

Harry groaned and slammed his elbows on the table, cradling his messy-haired head between his forearms. Dudley shook his head stupidly and gulped as he swallowed the huge bolus of food.

"Erin..." pleaded Harry.

"Harry, it's all right. I'm not going to let him bad mouth you any more."

"Erin please..."

"‘I didn't lie!" growled Dudley.

"Dudley, I spoke to my parents on the phone last night. They told me that they had always found Harry to be very polite and extremely helpful. My father suffers from arthritis and one day Harry helped him to do some pruning in our garden as he was finding it difficult that particular day."

Dudley's face had suffused with ugly colour and he was now glaring between Erin and Harry.

"I also went to the trouble of looking up St Brutus' on the internet and guess what I found?" Dudley continued to glare, his small eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

"Nothing. There is no such place as St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. Now why would you try and belittle Harry like that I wonder?"

At that moment Dudley saw his mother returning with a tray of food and drinks. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he had re-enforcements, his focus returned to filling his large stomach and Petunia had barely put the tray down and slid her bony bottom onto the very edge of the bench seat again before Dudley was cramming a huge hamburger into his mouth. Harry thought he would be sick so he closed his eyes.

Dudley's small eyes, so unlike his cousin's large, vibrant green ones, shifted between the young woman on his left and his mother who was doing her best to ignore Erin and Harry and was sipping a cup of coffee with her pinkie stuck in the air. Spraying more food across the table when he spoke, Dudley said to his mother, "Harry's got her..."  he jerked his head rudely towards Erin, "...well and truly hoodwinked, Mum."

Petunia nearly choked but managed to return her cup to its saucer without mishap.

"What do you mean, Diddy?" she asked in a careful voice.

"He means, Mrs Dursley that he made a mistake by telling me that Harry went to a School for young delinquents. St Brutus". There is no such place. I looked it up on the internet. You see..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes flicked to Harry and she saw that he was now looking positively frantic...a bit like a cornered animal that knew it was on the point of being devoured by something much larger and much stronger than he was.

Oh God, what have I done? The last thing she had wanted to do was make more trouble for Harry.

Erin returned her gaze to Petunia. Dudley's beady eyes flicked between his mother and Erin and he looked positively smug now that he had dropped the cat amongst the pigeons.

Petunia's lips had disappeared again as she forced herself to look from her sadly resigned and nervous looking nephew and his new friend who was now looking a tad uncomfortable. Petunia was pleased to see this as it made her feel that the ground under her feet was a little more stable. Wrapping herself in righteous anger, she leaned towards Erin Hanson, for the moment forgetting the two young boys at the table with them.

"You listen to me," hissed Petunia. "You might think butter wouldn't melt in this boy's mouth..." She jerked her head in Harry's general direction. "Let me tell you Miss Hanson, you have no idea what he is capable of. We have only told people what they need to know for their own protection. Harry Potter is a menace to society."

Both Erin and Harry's mouths dropped open.

"You know that's crap, Aunt Petunia," hissed Harry softly.

"You horrible, horrible woman," bit out Erin, a little more loudly. Several people close by turned to look. She scooted closer to Dudley (not that she had much room to manoeuvre as Dudley took up three quarters of the bench) and leaned across the table so that she was closer to Petunia. "How can you talk about your nephew like that? Do you hate him so much? He's just a young boy, the same age as your son, I imagine. Your affections can't stretch to encompass two children, Mrs Dursley?"

"If he was related to you, you would feel the same way we do, I assure you. You might think you know him but believe you me, you don't. How could you after only a few hours acquaintance." Petunia was in the process of gathering her bags together. Dudley could see that his mother had been pushed about as far as she was willing to go and that if he didn't want to walk home, he would have to leave with her whether he was finished his meal or not. He began shovelling the rest of his food down his gullet.

"I might have only just met Harry, Mrs Dursley but I assure you, I know exactly what kind of a boy he is. I know children and if I had to pick which one of these boys was the delinquent then I would have to pick your son."

Petunia gasped and shot to her feet. Erin continued, ignoring Dudley whose over-full mouth was hanging open again. "Harry is quiet, self effacing and polite whereas Dudley is brash, sneaky and snide. Also, Harry has not said one ill word to me about any of you, and Dudley has not missed one opportunity to belittle his cousin to me. That is more telling than anything else, I assure you."

Petunia threw the dirtiest look she could muster at one of the few people she had ever had to convince of Harry's unsuitability to mix with decent, normal people. And to actually infer that her darling Diddy was anything but perfect...well, the woman was just plain deluded. Probably as a result of Harry having put some kind of spell on her, no doubt.

Petunia took hold of Dudley's arm and virtually dragged him from the booth. He only just managed to grab hold of his milkshake before his mother pulled him out of the restaurant.

Erin took a deep breath and looked at Harry who had deflated to a miserable bundle on the other side of the booth. He raised his green eyes and she saw that they were heavily shadowed. His lips quirked into a semblance of a smile.

"I really appreciate your faith in me Erin but my aunt is not a happy woman at the moment and that will translate into my uncle being far from happy this evening."

Erin grinned sheepishly as she slid out of the booth. Harry followed suit and Erin threaded her arm through the messy-haired teen's as she led him towards the supermarket to do the grocery shopping she had originally come out to do.

"Don't worry so much Harry. They know you have a champion in me. They won't bother you, knowing that I am right next door."

"You don't know my uncle," mumbled Harry.

Erin grabbed a trolley and as Harry followed her around the supermarket, she questioned him closely.

"Why are they so unpleasant Harry? I know they don't really believe you to be a delinquent otherwise they would not let you out and about by yourself."

"Well, they didn't ask to be lumbered with me. I...I was orphaned and the authorities brought me to Aunt Petunia because she was my mother's only living relative...her sister. She took me in I suppose because she couldn't bear to think what people would say about her if they found out that she had let me go to an orphanage."

"Oh, Harry." Demonstrative as ever, Erin placed her hands on either side of Harry's face and pulled his head down to plant a kiss on his forehead. The kiss landed directly on his scar which she noticed for the first time. She ran her finger along the jagged blemish which at the moment was still quite inflamed, even though it had been two weeks since Voldemort had possessed him in the foyer of the Ministry.

Harry reflexively jerked his head away. Erin's brow creased in question. "Did I hurt you? How did you get that scar, Harry?"

Harry fell back on the old lie. "I got it in the car accident that killed my parents. Sorry. For some reason or other it still hurts every now and then." At Erin's appalled look, Harry cringed.

"The...the doctors can't explain why," he rushed to add.

"Oh Harry. You've not had the happiest of childhoods have you?"

"I've survived," said Harry uncomfortably.

"Survival is one thing, Harry. Contentment is entirely another."

Harry marched ahead indicating that the conversation was at an end. Erin for once let discretion reign and she finished the grocery shopping speaking of nothing more than why she preferred one brand to another and getting Harry to reach for the items on the higher shelves for her.

The trip home was completed in silence. Seeing how withdrawn and worried Harry looked made Erin realise that she may truly have caused problems for him with his relatives. She sighed quietly. When was she ever going to learn to curb her impulsiveness. She had just wanted to let Petunia Dursley know that she knew that Harry was being ill-treated and that she was going to be his new champion.

Harry knew that he was on a count down until Uncle Vernon got home from work. As much as he knew that he would be in trouble once his uncle stepped through the door of Number four, he found it impossible to be upset with Erin. He could not help but be grateful for his new neighbour's faith in him and her stoic defence of him, despite his family's unwavering determination to prove his worthlessness.

After Harry helped carry Erin's groceries into her home, he refused refreshments. She walked him to the door and placed her hand on his arm before he could leave. She was worried. "Harry, if things get too heavy at home, promise me that you'll come to me. You don't have to put up with any of their rubbish."

Harry's lips quirked into a smile that looked more like a grimace. She had no idea just how sadistic Uncle Vernon could be. The only way he was going to escape a good hiding was by not going home at all. But then where could he go and what would happen to the blood protection if he voluntarily forfeited his home. If it came down to it, his chances of survival were greater with Uncle Vernon than they were with Lord Voldemort.

"Thanks Erin, but I'll be fine." As Harry turned to walk away, Hedwig, his beautiful snowy owl flew down and landed on his shoulder. Although her appearance was unexpected, Harry was too used to these silent arrivals to be shocked, but Erin let out a gasp of surprise.

"Oh my God, Harry. Is that an owl?" Her voice was more than a little awe struck.

Harry scratched Hedwig's head and she hooted serenely. She usually knew to be more discreet about allowing herself to be seen by unknown Muggles, but Hedwig was always very in tune with Harry and she must have intuited that her master trusted Erin.

"Yeah, this is Hedwig. I...I've had her since she was a fledgling. She fell out of her nest and I found her and nursed her back to health." Harry was inventing wildly but he thought his explanation sounded feasible. Unless Erin was an expert on birds, then she shouldn't know that Snowy Owls were not native to Britain. "Now she won't leave me," he added, hoping he sounded convincing.

Erin reached over hesitantly and carefully stroked the snowy plumage. As beautiful as the owl was, her size and piercing amber eyes made her a rather intimidating sight. Erin's hand shook slightly as Hedwig's unblinking gaze rested on her but she continued to stroke the owl as Harry was doing.

"Aren't owls nocturnal?"

"Most are, yeah, but Snowy Owls are diurnal."

Erin's nervousness dissipated when it became obvious that Hedwig was quite happy with the extra attention. "Well she is certainly an unusual and magnificent pet, Harry. I'm glad you have one ally in that house."

"They hate her as much as they hate me," Harry stated idly, his focus on his owl. Erin's heart twisted inside her chest and she raised her hand to stroke the boy's messy black hair instead of Hedwig's plumage.

At that moment, a car turned into Number four, and Harry's heart sank. Uncle Vernon's beady eyes drilled into the dark haired boy with the owl on his shoulder, and the attractive woman standing next to him. Even from this distance, Erin could see the unpleasant colour suffuse the man's face.

"I'd better go." Harry raised his arm and Hedwig hopped onto his forearm. "Off you go girl." And the owl hooted and took off, her large wings making not a single sound as they beat the air.

Uncle Vernon had pried himself out of the car, and after dragging his briefcase out, he turned to face Harry and Erin. He gave a curt nod to Erin but spoke to Harry in as pleasant a voice as he could muster.

"Isn't it about time you were home, Harry? I'm sure your aunt could do with some help getting dinner started."

"See you," said Harry resignedly and Erin watched with worried eyes as he walked to the end of the drive and crossed to Number four. She glared at Vernon's back as he followed his nephew into the house.

Harry would have disappeared straight up to his bedroom but Vernon clamped a massive hand around the nape of his neck to prevent him ascending the stairs and guided him forcefully down the hall and into the kitchen instead. When he released his hold, he gave Harry a swift hard smack to the back of his head before the boy had a chance to duck away from his reach. Harry gritted his teeth to prevent himself from hurling a mouthful of abuse at the great bullying git. He settled instead for directing a withering glare at him whilst he straightened his glasses which had been knocked askew. Hurling the abuse would have made him feel a lot better though.

Aunt Petunia was at the kitchen sink peeling some potatoes. She did not even turn her head when her husband and nephew appeared so abruptly in her kitchen, but it was quite obvious by the stiff set of her back and her jerky, almost violent action with the potato peeler, that she thought that Harry deserved any punishment her husband deemed fit to hand out after her humiliation earlier that afternoon.

"Remind me boy, but weren't you told to stay away from that woman?" said Vernon, through clenched teeth.

"Why should I?" Harry shot back angrily. He knew it was unwise to goad his uncle, because he could see that Aunt Petunia would not be inclined to curb her husband's violent tendencies after that afternoon's happenings. "I'm not telling her anything about what goes on in this house." And then, unable to help himself as hate and resentment welled up inside, he added the explosive comment- "But if I was, you could be sure the authorities would be on the doorstep pretty damn quick!"

He was ready when Vernon lunged at him and managed to put the kitchen bench between them. The rapid sideways movement caused his painful ribs to catch. Harry wrapped one arm around his chest and held onto the bench for support.

"Are you threatening me, boy?" spat Vernon, slamming his huge clenched fists down onto the bench, causing the bowl of fruit to jump.

"No!" yelled Harry, deciding too late that prudence should have been the order of the day. He winced again as he shuffled further away from his livid uncle. "I wasn't threatening you," he added quietly, furious with himself for being such a coward and backing down.

His backward motion caused him to bump into his furious aunt. She threw the half peeled potato and the peeler into the bowl of water before grasping the edge of the sink so hard, her knuckles turned white. Her head was tucked into her shoulders and she hissed viciously.

"Get him out of here, Vernon!" Vernon lunged and grabbed Harry by the front of his loose hoody and hauled him up to within an inch of his apoplectic face.

Petunia continued to glare at her white knuckles. "Deal with him where I don't have to hear anything." Then she picked up her peeler and calmly continued on with her task while Vernon pulled Harry through the laundry into the back yard, then into the garage.

Harry fought but Vernon was way too strong, and weakened by his previous injuries and lack of food, Harry's struggles were ineffectual. He tried to summon some of the wild magic that he seemed able to conjure during times of extreme stress but nothing happened. Now, when his lunatic uncle was probably going to kill him, he could not summon any magic.

On the short journey between the house and garage, he tried to yell for help, hoping Erin would hear him, but Vernon was ready and he clamped a massive paw over Harry's lower face, not only cutting off his cry but also his air supply.

Harry scrabbled at the hand, but to no effect, and when Vernon threw him across the concrete floor so that he slammed into the rough brick wall he ended up in a gasping heap on the floor. He was on the verge of passing out from the combination of near asphyxia and pain and was unable to move out of the way when Vernon started his vicious assault with a kick to his already injured ribs.

Harry felt something tear inside him. Through agonising tears and broken glasses and battling for every breath, he watched, terrified as his uncle unbuckled his belt.

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Petunia stared, horrified, at Harry. Vernon, with Dudley's help had carried him like a sack of potatoes, back into the house and up to his bedroom. Dudley's small eyes had shone with malicious glee as he catalogued his unconscious cousin's visible injuries. After staring his full, he eventually became bored because Harry was out of it and was no longer screaming in pain and fear. He left his parents to their discussion and went to watch television.

Harry's bare torso was covered with welts and gouges from Vernon's belt and buckle. He had removed Harry's top, he explained to Petunia, so that ‘the hiding would impact more on the little whelp'. Several large areas of pale flesh were darkening into ugly purple bruises. His face was similarly bruised and a wicked, deep welt snaked from his left ear lobe which looked as though it had been half ripped off, down the angle of his jaw and across his throat.

It seemed that blood was oozing from every cell of Harry's skin. His breathing was choppy and irregular. Blood was also oozing from a badly broken nose and the unnatural angle of his right arm clearly showed that it was also broken.

Petunia turned her back on Harry, closing her eyes to the likelihood of even worse injuries than were immediately evident. Too late, she realised that she should have made sure that Vernon did not get too carried away, but she had been so angry with the boy herself that she had wanted to see him punished. However, the maternal part of her recoiled at the sight of her battered nephew, and when she turned reproachful eyes on her husband, he had the grace to look ashamed.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," he mumbled, slightly shamefaced.

"You are a fool, Vernon," hissed Petunia. "He needs medical treatment. How are we going to explain these injuries? The police will be called..."

"He'll be all right," blustered Vernon. "He's tough. He'll heal. He always does because of his mag..." Vernon's voice trailed off. He could not, or would not allow the word ‘magic' to pass his lips. "...because of his abnormality. And besides, now the boy might just learn to behave himself and do as he's told."

Petunia bit her lip. The boy did look very badly injured. But as a child, even though he had always been pale and scrawny, Harry had eventually recovered from illness and injury without medical intervention. On the two occasions she had taken him to the doctors, the visits had been unmitigated disasters.

In fact, after his first lot of vaccinations, he had become so desperately ill, she had thought he would die. But he had eventually recovered with virtually no intervention on her part. She had learned very quickly to keep the boy away from doctors for normal people.

Lily had been the same. Their parents had quickly learned that Lily did not react well to normal medicines. Yes, Vernon was right. You would not believe it to look at him; even at nearly sixteen, the boy was much smaller than their own darling Dudley. But he did seem to be resilient.

"I know," said Vernon in a forced, jovial voice. "After supper, let's go to the pictures." He crossed to the window and slammed it shut. Even though it wouldn't open more than six inches (enough to let that ruddy bird squeeze through) if the boy woke up, he might, conceivably call for help and that little trollop next door might just hear him.

He ushered his worried wife from the small bedroom and locked each of the three deadlocks behind him. "Get your mind off the boy for a couple of hours. I guarantee that by the time we get home, he'll be up and about again, none the worse for wear."

Petunia did not take much convincing and was happy to do something as normal as go to the movies with her husband and son without having to worry about what Harry was going to get up to whilst they were out. After all, he was not going to be doing anything he shouldn't for a while. And she had to believe that he would recover as he had done on numerous other occasions. She refused to add ‘too' to her mental assessment.

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Harry was fighting for breath. He needed to sit up-needed more oxygen-but when he tried to move, pain overwhelmed his senses. He began to panic which made the breathlessness and pain ten times worse. He thankfully slipped back into unconsciousness. His last hazy thought was that perhaps, if he was lucky, he might just not wake up again.

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When Severus Snape entered the headmaster's office, the old wizard was standing behind his magnificent desk and leaning forwards, his hands pressed flat against the desk top. There were several blueprints and documents littering the surface but the old wizard was not studying them intently as Severus had so often seen him do to the exclusion of all outside stimuli-instead, he was gazing at a delicate, finely crafted instrument that usually stood upon one of the many spindle-legged tables dotted around the room but was now on the desk. It was emitting tiny puffs of smoke and making tinkling sounds that somehow sounded urgent to Severus' untrained ear. Severus shook his head and rolled his eyes at his own fanciful thought.

"Albus?"

Dumbledore's eyes remained riveted on the device which was now definitely becoming agitated. Snape's own, obsidian eyes were fixed firmly on the display of storm grey clouds that rose into the air about two feet before dissipating. The madly tinkling device had many delicate arms with metal cups of varying sizes affixed sideways; they rotated rapidly around a central pivot. Suddenly the noise and movement stopped. The silence was ominous.

With difficulty, Snape dragged his eyes away from the gadget and fixed them on the headmaster's worried countenance.

"Albus!" Severus raised his voice slightly and the headmaster's head finally snapped up. He stared at the young wizard for several seconds as though he had forgotten that he had summoned him only minutes before. Severus could see the extreme anxiety in the old man's eyes. It was a look he saw much more often of late and one that he found he did not like. His complicated feelings for his friend and mentor notwithstanding, he wished the old wizard did not have to carry the weight of the safety of the wizarding world on his elderly shoulders. When Albus finally moved around the desk, it was with a burst of urgent energy.

Without preamble, he said, "Severus, I need you to go to Privet Drive immediately."

"What!" Severus was horrified. All concern for the old man dissolved as his words penetrated. "Surely you jest?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed ominously. "There is no time for a debate, Professor!" he said in a voice as uncompromising as Severus had ever heard, and one he was not used to hearing directed at him. Their relationship was such-and had been for a long time-that his title of ‘Professor' was only used these days in front of students. So Albus must really be worried about something.

"Harry is in some sort of trouble."

Snape seethed inwardly as his infuriating boss turned his back and took up a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the grate; green flames immediately erupted into life with a loud whoosh. He watched as Dumbledore knelt and stuck his head into the flames. Severus' resentment built as Dumbledore's muffled voice floated back to him. He could not hear to whom he was speaking or precisely what he was saying, but he found out when the old man faced him again, his face set and determined. Obviously Severus' desire not to be within one hundred miles of Harry bloody Potter was going to be totally ignored.

"It will be quickest to floo to Arabella's. I fear time is of the essence," said Dumbledore.

"What is going on?" Snape demanded through gritted teeth. "Has the Dark Lord breached the wards? Where is Potter's guard? Surely he or she would know if there was something wrong?"

"I do not know what the problem is," admitted Dumbledore, his voice as dead as Severus had ever heard it. "I just know something serious has occurred. Mundungus is on guard duty and we have not heard from him. However, I do not think it is Voldemort or any of his Death Eaters. And I hope I am wrong, but Harry may need the help of someone with healing skills. And just in case Dark Wizards are involved, your knowledge of both healing and the Dark Arts make you the only choice."

If Snape had been thirty years younger, he would have stamped his foot. As that was not an option, he settled for raising his voice, the increased volume a combination of anger and exasperation.

"For Merlin's sake Albus, if I show up at Potter's home, he is just as likely to hex me into the middle of next week and ask questions later. His detestation of me is only equal to mine for him. And what if I am seen by any of my-for want of a better word-colleagues?"

"Time is of the essence, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was that of the uncompromising, powerful wizard that he only rarely chose to present to the world. "And I know your Disillusionment Charm is extremely effective, so use it. You have five minutes to get the supplies you deem necessary for any contingency."

 Allowing himself three seconds to deliver his own Basilisk's glare before he swung away, and with resentment eating away at him like a malignancy, Severus crossed to the fireplace and flooed to his quarters where he filled the  capacious pockets of his robes with some basic supplies. It was just as well that he always spelled all his phials with unbreakable charms because he was so angry at the moment, he could have chewed glass.

The old fool was becoming paranoid about the Golden Boy. There would be nothing wrong with him, nothing that a swift kick up the arse wouldn't cure anyway. If Death Eaters were not swooping upon Privet Drive-and Severus had no doubt that Dumbledore would know if they were practically as soon as the Dark Lord gave the order, even if he himself was not summoned-then what else could be wrong with the pestilential Gryffindor.

When he stepped onto the rug in front of the magically enlarged fireplace in Arabella Figg's living room, Severus had to reign in his anger so that he could make a passable attempt at civility towards the elderly squib who had kept a surreptitious eye on Potter throughout his Muggle childhood.

"Professor Snape. It's lovely to see you." Arabella's hand had automatically risen to brush at a smudge of ash on his robes, but when she saw the glare in his dark eyes, she desisted.

"Arabella." Snape's terse greeting was accompanied by  the barest nod of his head. "Have you any idea as to why this rescue mission has been launched?"

Arabella shook her head of whispy, fly away hair. "No. All I know is that Dumbledore told me not ten minutes ago that you would be Flooing through. Everything seems fine at Number Four. I saw the Dursley's drive off about an hour ago. Harry wasn't in the car though."

"Why wouldn't Potter have been with them?"

"They rarely take Harry anywhere with them if they can avoid it."

"Perhaps he refuses to go. Knowing Potter as I do, he would put on a turn and dig his heels in just to cause discord. Perhaps he wants to have a friend over so that they can get up to no good."

Arabella's friendly demeanour cooled considerably. "I suggest that perhaps you don't know Harry as well as you think you do, Professor Snape. Harry is not the trouble maker in that family, I assure you. The Dursley's do not take Harry with them because they do not wish to be seen with the boy. Nor do they want to take the chance that he might enjoy himself on an outing."

Severus black eyes narrowed as he stared at the frowsy woman in front of him. A large grey cat winding around his ankles and leaving a liberal amount of its fur behind on his robes and black trouser legs, brought him back to the present. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and nudged the cat away with his booted foot.

"Can you see Potter's house from here?" he asked, taking out his wand and muttering a charm that banished the fur.

Arabella crossed to her front window and pointed into the advancing dark. Her house was directly opposite Privet Drive, in Wisteria Walk which formed the crosspiece of a ‘T' intersection. The elderly squib had a perfect view of the front of Number Four. The Dursley house was in total darkness, at least at the front. Snape wrapped his cloak around himself, nodded to Arabella and Disapparated, appearing almost instantaneously under a large tree on the nature strip in front of the Dursley house.

He stood totally still, listening and watching intently. His excellent hearing and sight had served him well as a spy for many years and now he quickly located Potter's current guard, Mundungus Fletcher. Because Snape knew what he was looking for, he could quickly made out the shimmering presence of the miserable excuse of a wizard who was more or less concealed under the influence of a less than spectacular Disillusionment Charm. Snape pointed his wand at the nearest street light and with a soft pop, it went out.

Fletcher was sitting propped against the base of a tree directly across the road. He did not even seem to notice the light go out. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, Snape moved like a wraith and was across the road and behind the tree within seconds. This close to, it was all too obvious that Fletcher was asleep on the job, a conclusion easily reached when a soft snore reached Snape's ears. And it did not need the superior olfactory abilities of a man used to discerning the merest trace of the scent of an unknown ingredient in a new potion for Severus to recognize the reek of fire whiskey and strong, foul tobacco.

The anger he had barely been able to tamp down suddenly pulsed through Snape again and without any compunction, he drew back his booted  foot and kicked the filthy SOB none too gently in the thigh. What in the hell was Dumbledore thinking, putting this useless sack of bat droppings on duty to guard the Golden Boy again? Hadn't the fiasco last summer with the Dementors been the result of Fletcher's dereliction of duties?

Prepared for the loud yell of pain and the litany of curse words, Snape had cast a perfectly timed Silencing Charm. With his mouth moving non-stop, Fletcher was searching for his wand amidst his filthy robes and trying to gain his feet at the same time. Snape grabbed a handful of the distasteful garment and hauled the shocked man upwards, slamming him back against the tree trunk before he found the wand. Knowing Fletcher's penchant for quick escapes, Snape also cast a silent anti-Disapparation ward around his prisoner.

Fletcher's eyes were wide with fear, his mouth stretched in a silent scream. His frantic struggles to dislodge the constricting arm across his throat escalated until he recognised the sibilant hiss delivered close to one filthy ear.

"You can be thankful that though I am a Death Eater, Fletcher, I am not faithful to the Dark Lord. If I were, you would have been dead fifteen seconds ago." Snape released the drunk, who slumped to the ground in a quivering heap. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Dumbledore will not be pleased, Mundungus. Potter might not be important to you but he is important to our leader and many other members of the Order."

Fletcher tried to talk and when he realised that he made no noise, he gestured for Snape to lift the Silencing Charm. Snape complied-reluctantly.

"What're ya doin' ‘ere, Snape? And why did ya have to be so bloody rough?" The whisky and tobacco roughened voice was hoarse, and Mundungus massaged his throat with heavily tobacco stained fingers.

"I am here because Dumbledore sent me. And you were lucky that I did not do worse to you. This is the second time you have been caught slacking off when you were supposed to watching Potter."

"There's nufin' ta watch at the mo," growled the belligerent Order member. He indicated the darkened Dursley house with a jerk of his thumb. "They've gorn out for the evenin' and Potter must have gorn to bed early."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure Potter was not with them? Arabella thinks not."

"Na. Just the fat Muggle and his scrawny wife and fat kid got in the car."

Snape gazed at the darkened façade of the house across the road. His voice was thoughtful when he asked, "You don't think that nine pm is a little early for a fifteen year old boy to be in bed, Fletcher?"

Fletcher stared into the Stygian darkness of Snape's fathomless eyes before looking away with a shiver. This bloke scared the crap out of him. He hunched one shoulder and rubbed his ear lobe against it. He mumbled something unintelligible and Snape raised his eyebrows and placed his hand behind his ear in an exaggerated way.

"Pardon."

"He might ‘ave been tired," repeated Fletcher belligerently. And then in an attempt to shift attention from this statement he quickly asked, "And why did Dumbledore send you ‘ere anyways, Snape? Doesn't ‘e know how much you ‘ate Potter?"

Snape glared menacingly. "My feelings for Potter notwithstanding, Fletcher, I am here following orders, which is more than I can say for you." He stepped closer to the sneak thief, making him press back against the bole of the tree. Snape determinedly ignored the foul reek of Fletcher's breath when he pushed his face intimidatingly close again. "And regardless of whether Potter has gone to bed whilst he relatives have gone out-and personally I'm surprised you were compos enough to realise they had left at all-your job is to remain alert to the possible appearance of Dark Wizards." He stepped back.

"Now it is my unpleasant duty to check out that house and determine whether Potter is in there or not. So you will remain alert to any other intrusions." Snape wrapped his cloak tightly around himself again and stepped off the curb. Before crossing the road he said softly, without turning around, "And rest assured, Fletcher, Dumbledore will hear of your sloppiness on the job-again." He then crossed the road swiftly and silently, fully aware of the extremely rude hand gesture Mundungus made behind his back, but totally indifferent to the sentiment.

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Erin switched off the television in disgust. "Well Pumpkin, as there's nothing on TV, I think I'll retire to bed and read. What do you think?" The black cat blinked her beautiful orange eyes and opened her pink mouth in a wide yawn, her front paws stretching wide to expose needle sharp claws which she carefully dug once into the fabric covering the arm of the chair where she was sitting before retracting them again without doing any damage.

When Erin switched off the lamp, the cat jumped lightly to the floor and padded up the stairs ahead of her mistress. Without putting on the light Erin crossed to the bedroom window to shut the drapes. Looking out, she noticed that the nearest street light was out. As she was fumbling for the cord, she saw a tall, slim dark figure step off the curb on the other side of the road. She watched as the person stood for several seconds before walking swiftly across the road.

Erin could not tell whether the person was male or female-the height suggested male-but she could tell when someone was being furtive, and when the figure did not turn to walk along the footpath, but hurried across the Dursley's front lawn, all of her senses went on high alert.

The Dursleys had gone out earlier; she had seen them drive off. Harry had not been in the car. Now when angling her face closer to the window did not improve her field of vision enough, Erin didn't hesitate. Harry was in that house alone. Disregarding the niggling little voice in the back of her mind that sounded remarkably like her mother telling her that she was far too impulsive, she raced out of her room and down the stairs.

In the hallway, that strident voice of reason finally slowed her impetuous flight and Erin spent many agonising seconds trying to find something that would make a suitable weapon. Her selection was extremely limited and in the end she armed herself with her old hockey stick that her mum must have kept, and was in the cupboard under the stairs. She hefted the old stick in her hands and raced for the front door. 

She was frantic with worry for the young boy whom she had become very fond of in an extremely short space of time. When she stepped onto her porch she forced herself to slow down again, deciding that a little stealth would most definitely serve her better. 

Her bare feet made little noise on the concrete driveway and when, bent double, she reached the lower section of fence dividing her property from the Dursley's, she cautiously stuck her head around. There was no sign of anyone in the front of the house and there was no way to get around the back without going through the garage, which, she knew was kept locked. The intruder must already be in the house.

Her bare feet padding on the cool concrete, Erin hurried around the bottom of the fence, up the Dursley's driveway and across to the front door. The door was closed and there was no sign from what she could see in the dark of damage to the lock. She reached out and closed her hand around the brass door handle. It turned easily within her sweaty grasp.

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A short time beforehand, Severus had tried the front door on the off chance that the Muggles may have left it unlocked. He thought that not having to use a spell to unlock the door would be one less bit of magic performed in a Muggle neighbourhood, and one less thing to stress the weak bladders of those fools at the Ministry of Magic.

Damn, but the door was locked. Severus pulled his wand and tapped the lock, mentally incanted Alohomora and carefully pushed the door open. He found himself in a small entrance hall with stairs on his right and a narrow hallway stretching ahead of him with a doorway on the left halfway along opening into an over furnished living room.

Lumos. A rapid search by the light of his wand showed Severus that Potter was nowhere downstairs. The house was unnaturally quiet. And it was so sterile. But despite this unnatural cleanliness, Severus was a little shocked to feel an all pervading "darkness" suffusing the building. He had always been very attuned to atmosphere, which was why he tended to spend most of his time at Hogwarts; it was his preferred place of residence even during the holidays. To him, the castle seemed to be perpetually bathed in a golden aura of tranquillity and light, and whenever he came back after having  attended an audience with the Dark Lord-or worse-a dark revel, the castle seemed to reach out and embrace him, and it always made him feel grounded. The castle was strongly attuned to the current headmaster's magic and the ancient edifice must know that Dumbledore trusted him and that he now worked for the side of the light.

Severus felt much the same now that he was thirty-six years old as he had when he had first entered the castle when he had been a sad, angry and lonely eleven year old. The stone walls had always seemed to resonate with understanding and approval for the miserable child he had been and the angry and bitter man that he had become.

But this house-this ordinary Muggle house-was mired in despair and suffering. Not the atmosphere he would have thought to encounter in an ordinary suburban house in stereotypical Mugglesville, if indeed he had ever thought about it at all. The question was, why did this house exude misery? From what he knew of Muggles, these...these Dursleys seemed to have everything that non-magical folk considered to be necessary to make their mundane lives comfortable and complete. Perhaps the presence of Potter in their lives was responsible for the desolation he could feel. God knew, the boy made him feel every negative emotion known to man and wizard kind. Just as his bloody father and Godfather had always done.

Making his black mood even blacker, these thoughts trickled through Severus' mind as he quickly but cautiously ascended the stairs, his booted feet totally silent. The light from his wand reflected off the glass of a series of  Muggle photographs that graced the wall along the length of the staircase. The subject of them all-and many others that Severus had seen dotted around the rest of the house-was an extremely unattractive boy.

The first photo at the bottom of the stairs was of a large blobby baby with small, pale blue eyes, a thatch of blonde hair and a thunderous expression. There were about eight photographs of this boy in all, seemingly taken at two or three year intervals. Neither his looks, nor his ill-natured expression had improved with age. He had not one redeeming feature. He had been unflatteringly large as a baby and in every subsequent photo, he had gained massive amounts of weight so that in the last photo-perhaps taken at about the age of fifteen or sixteen-he was grossly obese, and his small eyes had practically disappeared amongst the folds of fat that made up his face. Neville Longbottom was positively sylph-like compared to this creature.

Reason dictated that this blob must be Potter's cousin, but Severus could not see any resemblance whatsoever. Potter had been very small for his age when he had first come to Hogwarts and had remained that way until last year when he had begun to fill out a little and gain some much needed height and weight. He would be lucky to weigh much more than half of what his cousin weighed if the last photograph was current. And neither did the blob have Potter's striking green eyes-the eyes he had inherited from Lily. This unfortunate specimen probably took after his father as Severus could not see Petunia in the doughy face at all.

As much as Severus did not want to admit that Potter had anything going for him, he could not deny that the little mongrel had grown into quite a good looking boy...even more-so than his quidditch hero father had been. Though very like James, Harry's looks were much more refined-like his beautiful mothers'.

Severus had even heard more than one of his Slytherin girls giggling and talking in whispers about the young Gryffindor...another Quidditch superstar. The idiotic, hormone driven females did it in secret of course. It would not do for the likes of Draco Malfoy or other young ‘Death Eaters in waiting' to hear any such adolescent female fantasising about how dishy the supposed future saviour of the wizarding world was.

Severus' lip curled in disgust as he reached the top of the stairs and played his lighted wand along the upstairs hallway. All the doors to the rooms stood fully open...except one. His eyes widened when he saw the three no-nonsense deadlocks adorning the one closed door. What in the name of Merlin... He stared at the improbable security arrangement for a long time, his dark eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. He could not honestly think what the necessity for so many locks was. Even if Potter's habit of night time wandering extended to his time spent here, surely one lock would be sufficient to keep him confined as he was not allowed to perform magic. And what in the world was the flap in the base of the door all about?

But even one lock smacked of a prison cell, and as much as Potter might need more supervision than the average adolescent male, locking him in a room was definitely not acceptable practice. What if there was a fire whilst the boy was confined in such a manner? Severus conveniently forgot the many occasions when he would dearly have loved to incarcerate the troublesome Gryffindor, preferably where he would not have to see him or worry about him ever again.

There was no light to be seen in the gap under the door and Severus was becoming more and more uneasy. It was definitely not late. If Potter was at home, it was unlikely that he would be asleep at this relatively early hour. Severus knew for a fact that the foolish child usually kept very late hours. His unfortunate habit of wandering the corridors at Hogwarts was testimony to that fact. Even if he could not leave the room, the boy would surely be doing something that required light at this time. No light and total silence... something was definitely off.

Severus tried the doorknob and was not surprised to find that the door was indeed locked. He had just raised his wand to the first of the locks when a low groan reached his ears. This was immediately followed by the sound of harsh ragged breathing and the rustling of fabric on fabric. Severus stood uncharacteristically irresolute...was the boy ill?

These musings were cut off abruptly when a muted crash sounded from behind the door, followed immediately by an agonised yell.

Severus' wand was pointed at the door before the distressed sound had ended. His instincts had been right and there was now no time for subtlety. He stepped back and yelled, "Reducto!"

Potter was not immediately visible but another gurgling groan came from the floor on the far side of the bed, and two strides carried the tall wizard around the foot of the bed. Potter lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, his breathing rapid and shallow and hoarse. He seemed to be semi-conscious and so was not immediately aware of the man who knelt down beside him.

Severus put a gentle hand on the boy's thin shoulder, finding it difficult to locate an area of skin that was not marred by welts or cuts. As soon as Harry felt the touch, he cried out in obvious fear and a shiver raced across his skin. He tried to roll away but his injuries prevented any movement; all he could manage was another muted cry of pain and then he started to cough. Bright blood bubbled out of the corner of his mouth and Severus could tell, without the use of magic, that the boy had a punctured lung.

Harry was becoming more and more agitated, his breathing more choppy and wheezy, and his lips were becoming cyanotic. Blood continued to bubble out of his mouth.

Severus wasted no time. Whilst pressing Harry's shoulder against the hard floor, he pointed his wand at the boys chest and muttered a string of complicated words. Immediately, a bright blue-white light erupted from the end of the ebony wand and penetrated Harry's chest wall. Harry's eyes sprang open wide with the shock of the spell. For the space of five seconds, he fought Severus' hold like a Kneazle confined within a Hessian sack. Severus restraining hands just tried to prevent Harry injuring himself further.

Suddenly, Harry stilled and his gurgling breaths were suspended for the space of another five seconds, then the air whooshed out of him and he seemed to become boneless under Severus' hand. His respirations were no longer harsh, but they were still far too rapid.  

"Potter, can you hear me? It's Professor Snape. I'm here to help you." As appalled as Severus felt at the sight of the injured child, he worked to keep his voice dispassionate. He was not at all sure that Potter would exactly be reassured to know that Severus Snape was in the immediate vicinity when he was so helpless.

Sure enough, Harry, who was obviously still in considerable pain and who had his eyes screwed tightly shut, now opened them wide in panic. Severus could see the long black lashes clumped together with mucous and tears, the green orbs glazed with pain. Those distinctive, round glasses were missing.

Severus' words themselves had not registered with Harry but the distinctive, deep drawl that had heaped insult after insult upon his head for the last five years triggered the usual negative emotions, and his fear intensified.

A sudden spurt of adrenalin negated the pain momentarily and Harry scooted backwards on his one good elbow and his heels. He moved less than two feet before collapsing again and rolling back onto his side, his uppermost arm very obviously broken near the elbow. His face was bathed in perspiration and he was as pale as one of the Hogwarts' ghosts.

Harry retched violently but nothing but blood-stained bile came up. When Severus placed his hand on the boys forehead, he was cold and clammy. Another shiver raced over his skin but this time Severus maintained a firm hold. The boy was in shock. He needed some blood replenishing potion but Severus knew that making him swallow anything at the moment would only make him vomit.

"Potter...Harry, I am not going to hurt you. Professor Dumbledore sent me to check on you. You must keep still or you will exacerbate your injuries."

Harry tried once more to pull away from that restraining hand but then all the fight went out of him and he seemed to deflate. His eyes were screwed tightly shut again, so he didn't see Severus raise his wand. He vaguely felt a soft warm movement of air as his professor softly incanted a gentle cleansing charm after which, his face, though sore and swollen, suddenly felt clean and dry. Another whisper, this time, Episkey, was accompanied by a short, sharp pain and his nose no longer ached with dull throbbing pain that echoed his heartbeats.

The discolouration of multiple bruises was more obvious after the removal of the blood, dirt, sweat and tears. Many of the ugly wounds were still oozing blood but Severus thought the badly broken arm was in most need of immediate attention as it would be difficult to move the boy without immobilizing it at least. The rest of his internal injuries would have to wait until they got back to Hogwarts.

"Lie still, Potter. I'm going to fix your arm."

"You're not a healer," croaked the boy in pain filled tones.

"In fact, I am," replied Severus dispassionately.

Harry lay still, though shivers kept racing over his skin as his professor ran surprisingly gentle hands over the thin, deformed limb. Severus found the nasty break. Harry sucked in a breath and his arm jerked spasmodically. He retched again, grimacing and groaning as the taste of bile filled his mouth. The pain was unbelievable.

"Keep still Potter. The edges of this break are just a whisker short of breaking through your skin." Snape pointed his wand at the fragile skin over  the break. Harry felt intense warmth penetrate his arm and saw through his closed lids a white light so brilliant, it left white streaks on his retinas. White hot needles of pain had Harry screwing his eyes tightly shut and biting his lip. He didn't think there was much to separate the pain of the fracture from the pain of the cure. All of a sudden the agony that wracked every inch of his body and the shock of his most hated professor arriving to help him, overpowered his senses and he drifted off into a semi-conscious state again.

Snape was so immersed in the effort of maintaining the spell that he was not immediately aware of the new presence in the room. It was the swish of something moving rapidly through the air that had Snape spinning around from where he was crouched over Harry's battered and broken form. All he had time to do was raise an arm to protect his head from the forcible descent of some kind of long stick. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the blow...but it never came.

Stupefy! The stick wielding assailant crumpled to the floor in front of the stunned potions master, the weapon falling uselessly to the floor. Severus raised shocked eyes to the figure holding a raised wand standing in the doorway. Remus Lupin stepped over the felled person and knelt down at her head.

"Lupin," said Severus, his voice emerging with a slight croak, and then, with a slightly less caustic tone than it normally would have had when addressing his fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix, he added, "Your timing is for once, impeccable."

"You're welcome, Severus," said Remus dryly, his voice soft and husky.  He turned Severus' would be attacker over and both wizards looked into the  face of a very attractive young woman. Remus looked a little staggered as he stared his fill. He raised his soft brown eyes to Severus' equally stunned face. "I promise that I shall never let on that Severus Snape was nearly brained by a Muggle woman."

Severus ignored the other man as his eyes remained riveted on the unconscious woman's face.

Now that the immediate danger had passed, Remus suddenly became aware of the overpowering smell of blood and fear. His eyes snapped to Harry and he remembered his frantic flight to the boy's side after he had finally returned from his latest mission for the Order and contacted Dumbledore. When Dumbledore had told Remus about his fears for Harry, the younger wizard had immediately Apparated to Privet Drive. He forgot about the Muggle as he scooted across the floor to his best friend's son, staring down at the battered body with horror.

"Harry! In the name of Merlin, what happened to you?"

Remus' voice roused Harry. He moaned and rolled his head so that he was facing Remus. He stared at the familiar face through unfocused eyes.

"Professor Lupin..." he croaked. "Wh...what're you doing here?"

"I've come to help get you out of here Harry. Did your uncle do this to you?"

Harry licked his dry lips and nodded. He shuddered as he remembered his terror in the face of his uncle's rage. "Where's Professor Snape?" he asked through chattering teeth.

"I'm here Potter." Harry's head rolled lethargically towards the sound of the deep, drawling voice. "Would you happen to know who this woman is?" Harry squinted past the bottom of Snape's robes and his booted feet to the figure lying, unconscious on the floor. All he could really see was a pale blur but he could make out the colour of the long hair spread over the floor.

"Erin!" he exclaimed, horrified. He tried to sit up to go to her but Remus stayed his agitated movement with a hand on his shoulder. "What have you done to her?"

"Stay still Harry," ordered Remus. "So you do know this woman?"

Harry took several deep breaths in an effort to ward off the nausea that had risen again as a result of his attempted movement. "She..." he panted. "She's my next door neighbour...my friend. Wh-what happened to her?"

Lupin brushed Harry's sweaty fringe away from his forehead. "It's all right Harry. She'll be fine. You need to concentrate on you at the moment."

But immediately he had spoken-and causing Harry to cry out in shocked surprise-Remus sprang to his feet and both he and Snape spun towards the doorway, their wands drawn and at the ready.  They had both heard the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs. The two men  practically stood shoulder to shoulder, ready for battle, prepared to protect Harry at all costs.

"Aaaargh!" Mundungus Fletcher practically wet himself when he appeared in the doorway. He bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to drag in a deep breath. His headlong flight had been more than his dodgy ticker should have been expected to take, but to then find the wands of two powerful wizards pointed directly at him had nearly made his heart stutter to a stop.

"Shit! What the ‘ell do you two think ya doing?" His Bassett Hound eyes peered at Remus, who was slowly lowering his wand. "And what are you doin' ‘ere Lupin?" His bloodshot eyes swivelled towards the bloody and battered boy partly visible behind Lupin's legs and the unconscious woman behind Snapes.

His eyes widened, and he darted a nervous glance at Severus' tight, furious features. "What the ‘ell ‘appened to Potter? And who in ‘ades is that?" He pointed a shaking finger at Erin.

"This Muggle and Lupin managed to get past your watch, Fletcher," said Snape in an ominous voice, ignoring Mundungus' question.

"In Mundungus' defence, Severus, I Apparated straight onto the landing. But I am sure this young lady must have walked in the front door."

Fletcher's blood shot eyes shifted warily between the two tall wizards. Snape looked even more menacing than he had outside. Mundungus gulped, his protuberant Adam's Apple bobbing up and down in panic.

"I was still recoverin' from your sudden appearance, Snape," he croaked. "I might'a missed her. But I didn't miss the two figures who flew in on brooms and landed a couple of ‘ouses away. I'd say ya best get out'a here."

Snape had sprung into action before Fletcher had finished speaking. He knelt beside Harry again. The broken arm was incompletely healed so Severus set about conjuring a splint and attaching it.

"Potter, where is your wand?"

Harry's teeth were clenched against the pain as Snape bound his arm but he managed to hiss, "Locked in my trunk, in the cupboard under the stairs."

"Fletcher, retrieve Potter's trunk and Apparate straight to the gates of Hogwarts." Mundungus didn't need telling twice to get the hell out of Dodge.

"Potter, this will hurt like hell so I am going to stun you so that you can't feel it. Apparation with these injuries will be most unpleasant."

Harry looked terrified, his breath was coming in panicked gasps. "No! Please. I need to know what's going on." He threw Lupin a pleading look. "Professor Lupin!"

Remus had been rapidly checking around the room for any stray belongings. All he had found were Harry's broken glasses which he had pocketed, and Hedwig's mercifully empty cage which he put a shrinking charm upon and pocketed also. "It's all right, Harry. Severus is right. You will probably pass out from the pain anyway. Don't worry. I will be right alongside you."

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's chest but before he could incant, Harry yelled, ignoring the pain that sliced through him. "Wait! You can't leave Erin here if there are Death Eaters near by. They'll kill her."

Privately, Severus knew the Death Eaters would do more than that, but all he said was, "Potter you are our priority. We haven't got time to worry about anyone else."

Harry's frantic eyes sought out Remus again. "Please!" he begged and then he knew no more.

Suddenly both Snape and Lupin's heads whipped around towards the doorway. They had both heard noises from downstairs. They exchanged grim looks. Fletcher had Disapparated seconds earlier; they had heard the extra loud pop of his less than expert Disapparation. Snape gathered Harry's slight body into his arms and easily regained his feet.

Remus grabbed Severus' forearm and whispered, "Harry's right, Severus. We can't leave her. They'll do more than kill her.'

"If you wish to play the hero, Lupin, that is up to you," he hissed. "I will see you at Hogwarts." And without further ado, Severus Disapparated.

Remus bent to scoop Erin into his arms but the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs brought him upright again and he stood in front of the unconscious Muggle with his wand pointed at the doorway, his careworn features resolute.

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When Severus and his burden popped into existence outside the gates of Hogwarts, it was to see Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall hurrying through the darkness towards them, their lit wands illuminating the path ahead. Fletcher was sitting on Potter's trunk, stuffing some more tobacco into the foul pipe that he smoked. He had been eyeing the road furtively in both directions, and when Severus appeared with a soft pop, he cried out in panic and dropped the pipe as he scrabbled desperately for his wand.

"Unprepared again, Fletcher," sneered Severus. He kicked the pipe away into the bushes with a dust coated boot.

"Oi!" screeched the indignant Fletcher, scrabbling after the offensive item, forgetting that he could use a summoning charm.

"That foul thing will be the death of you in more ways than one, as it's in your hand more often than is your wand. And even if it wasn't, the smell of you would alert any half competent Death Eater."

As Severus hoisted the unconscious Harry into a more secure hold, the lock on the gate clicked open and the heavy chains began to unravel, even though Dumbledore and Minerva were still fifty feet away. Mundungus had signalled Dumbledore that he was awaiting admittance as soon as he had arrived outside the gates. He did not have authorisation to enter Hogwarts whenever he wanted, even though he was a member of the Order. Dumbledore had no illusions as to Mundungus' true nature, and would no more allow the man unchecked access to the hall's of Hogwarts than he would fly to the moon on a broomstick.

Severus strode past the still frantically searching sneak thief and kicked the gate open just as the headmaster and his deputy arrived. They looked at the battered boy in Snape's arms, their expressions appalled. Minerva uttered a pained cry which she stifled with her hand but Dumbledore's face hardened, his eyes becoming two chips of blue steel. "So, the signs were correct," he said in a dangerously neutral voice. He kept up with his grim potion master's long strides as they moved quickly towards the castle.

Snape spun around when he heard the clink of metal on metal. Minerva was refastening the gates after Mundungus had slunk through them, guiding Harry's trunk with a hover charm. "Lupin will be here any moment, he called back to the deputy headmistress. "He turned up at the Dursley's." His Stygian black eyes pierced the darkness beyond the gate.

"He should be here by now," he said in a much quieter tone. "He should have been right behind me."

"Minerva, please wait for Remus. If he has not arrived in ten minutes, secure the gates again." Dumbledore strode again after Severus' rapidly retreating form that had now reached the low stone wall that divided the  lawns and gravel drive from the paved courtyard. Two sets of heels clicked on the stones.

"The wards fell, Albus. Death Eaters entered the house."

"I know," Albus said, in a cold, expressionless voice. "Were the Dursley's at home?"

"No. Arabella and Fletcher both said they had all left in their car an hour or so earlier."

"Then I fear for their safety. My protective wards would not have failed if either Petunia or Dudley Dursley were still alive."

Severus spared his friend a quick glance in the dim light of the entrance hall. The old wizard looked particularly grim. Two minutes later, Severus was lowering Harry gently onto a bed and Albus saw the full extent of his injuries in the light cast by several lighted torches on the walls of the hospital wing.

"Sweet Merlin," whispered Albus. "Vernon Dursley did this?" Severus did not need to answer as the injuries marring the young boy's body were quite obviously Muggle in origin.

While Snape set about spelling Harry's remaining clothing off, Dumbledore gently pushed his sweaty fringe off his forehead, revealing the jagged scar that had shaped the child's life since the age of fifteen months.

He shook his head, his wizened face shadowed by sorrow and guilt. "This child's life just goes from bad to worse. It is not enough that Voldemort and his lackeys desperately want him dead; his own uncle has beaten him to within an inch of his life."

The hard, grim expression Snape had glimpsed earlier had now been replaced with one of sorrow and regret. "If only I could make his lot a little easier."

For a couple of minutes, softly spoken incantations were the only sounds heard as Severus expertly wielded his wand to heal the least serious of Harry's injuries...the ones he could heal without the addition of oral potions. It was best the boy remain out of it for as long as possible.

Dumbledore watched Severus' quick, sure movements. As the many cuts and abrasions marring Harry's pale body were replaced by soft, pink scar tissue, both men could see more than a few old scars.

Severus could feel palpable waves of anger radiating from the powerful wizard standing at the foot of Potter's bed. If Vernon Dursley was still alive, the fat Muggle was in for quite a shock. He would have even more of a reason to despise wizards after Dumbledore was finished with him.

I might give the worthless piece of rancid manure a taste of his own medicine myself, Severus thought with pitiless relish.

"I must go and get some potions from the dungeon stores, Albus. I haven't gotten around to replenishing Poppy's stocks as yet. I want Potter's potions as fresh as possible." Severus pulled the bed clothing up to Harry's waist to preserve the boys modesty. He did not want to cover the newly healed lesions just yet and as the air was quite cool, he cast a warming charm. All of Potter's energy was needed for healing purposes, he did not need to be expending energy in an attempt to keep warm.

"I will watch him," said Dumbledore.  Snape swept down the long ward and at the door, he met Minerva who was looking disapproving, as she was in the company of Mundungus. The petty criminal's general air of filthy unkemptness, combined with his strong body odour had never endeared him to any of the female members of the Order, and Minerva was finding being in such close proximity to the man, distasteful. However, it was necessary to keep him close as it was out of the question to leave him alone in the castle.

"Remus failed to show, Severus." The witches voice was as usual, crisp  and no nonsense, but Severus could hear the underlying worry. For a moment, he felt a swift stab of concern himself, but then he remembered what Lupin was. Werewolves could take care of themselves. But could he take care of himself and protect the Muggle at the same time? And Lupin would never forfeit even a Muggle to save himself.

"Lupin can take care of himself," he said in dismissive tones before sweeping down the stairs. He could feel Minerva's disapproval dogging him all the way to his laboratory. He was not aware that he had his teeth clenched tightly together until his jaw started to hurt.

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Severus gathered his supplies automatically, whilst his thoughts dwelled on the Dursley house. What had happened? Why hadn't Lupin been right on his tail? Had the Muggle woman awoken and given him trouble?

Severus discarded that thought almost as soon as it had materialised. He did not doubt the strength of his childhood enemy's Stunning spell. The Muggle would definitely not wake up until somebody woke her up.

So, that left the Death Eaters. They must have arrived before Lupin could gather up the Muggle and Disapparate. And he would not have even considered leaving her behind, despite the fact that she was a Muggle. Severus doubted that he would have been as generous. Even with Potter's entreaty, he would have left the woman behind if she had endangered him. And not because she got past my guard and nearly brained me.

Of course, Lupin was a gallant Gryffindor. He would never have considered leaving the woman behind, simply because she was a Muggle, and therefore incapable of protecting herself against evil men and their Dark Magic.

Side along Disapparation with a non-magical person was a risky business. His own escape with Potter in his arms had been easy enough, even though the boy had been unconscious. His innate magic had combined with Severus' to carry them both safely through the ether. Only strong wizards ever attempted side-along at all, and only those known to be uncommonly skilful would attempt it with a Muggle. If the wizard attempting the Disapparation was not skilful enough, chances were a disastrous splinching would occur, most likely resulting in the Muggle's death.

The preparation for side along Disapparation with a Muggle was more protracted than it was with another magical person in tow. Mental grounding was necessary, and unless you were Albus Dumbledore, it took a few seconds. Precious seconds that could be the difference between life and death...or at the very least, capture.

Severus shook his head, his features grim. Capture for an attractive Muggle female was never pretty. Her rape and torture would be prolonged and death would be a much hoped for release. So, if Lupin and the Muggle had been captured, Snape hoped that Lupin had done the humane thing and killed her before the Dark Lord's minions had a chance to play with her.

Severus prepared to Floo back to the Hospital Wing. He had decided to walk down to the dungeon laboratory earlier because he had needed time to compose himself, and Potter was out of immediate danger. Lupin's non-appearance was definitely not good, but only time would tell what had transpired there.

But he would very much like to know what had transpired at Potter's home. Why had he been beaten so badly? Severus knew that the boy could drive the white ants out of the wood but he also knew that nothing...absolutely nothing could warrant a child being beaten to within an inch of his life, no matter the transgression.

The brutality of the attack on Potter was one thing. The Dursley father and son were both gross specimens of humanity-much bigger than Potter, who had definitely not weighed what Severus would have expected a sixteen year old to weigh. He knew the boy had hardly eaten any meals over the last week of school following the debacle at the Ministry.

He had watched him. Potter had sat with his friends, and either the Weasley girl, or Granger, after her release from the hospital wing, had served him up meals, and he had pretended to eat them. A mouthful or two had been the extent of his nourishment. If the other two thirds of the Golden Triumvirate, or the Weasley girl had gotten too heavy with him, he had just left them to their meals and left the Great Hall. To their credit, the girls and the Weasley sidekick had always followed him. It seemed they had been loathe to let Potter wallow in his misery.

Potter had always been finely built, always one of the smaller boys in his year. But after the shock of seeing him broken and battered and covered in blood, and after attending to the most pressing problems-and before the Muggle had nearly brained him-Severus had been surprised at just how malnourished the boy had looked. And then, hefting him into his arms had proven that Potter was definitely underweight. Sixteen year old males, even finely built ones, should weigh more than the average twelve year old.

Had the boy still not had an appetite, or had the Dursleys starved him as well as beaten him? The malnutrition was something that would have to be dealt with, or Potter would not be able to heal properly. 

Severus pointed his wand at the grate and a small fire erupted. He threw some powder into the flames and a second later, he stepped into Poppy's office. He had bought everything he thought he would need for the boy for the next few days and it had all been carefully placed inside a bag that Severus used when the pockets of his robes were insufficiently capacious enough to hold all he needed.

Dumbledore and Minerva were sitting next to a still unconscious Harry when Severus re-joined them. They were speaking in quiet tones. To Severus' surprise, Fawkes, the Phoenix was perched on the bed-head, preening himself industriously. Immediately, Severus could see that the fresh, pink scar left after he had healed the nasty welt that had snaked from the boys ear to his throat, was completely gone.

"I did not think that the child needed another scar around his face," said Dumbledore quietly. "The one that he has is enough to be going on with, I think." Fawkes spread his magnificent wings and soared the few feet to land on Dumbledore's shoulder. He nibbled Dumbledore's ear, let out a melodious trill and took off through one of the open windows.

Severus supposed he was glad of the bird's intervention. The welt had been wide and deep and the resulting scar would have been far from pretty. It would have been a nasty blemish for a sixteen year old to live with. And Potter did have enough problems to be going on with, without being self conscious about his appearance. Especially as it was more than likely that the likes of Draco Malfoy would have taken every opportunity to taunt Potter about the unsightly blemish.

Severus unloaded the phials and jars he had bought onto the bedside table. "Where's Fletcher?" he asked, relieved to see that the filthy wizard was nowhere in sight.

"Dobby has very kindly taken him to the kitchens for a feed," answered Dumbledore. Minerva's audible sniff and pursed lips indicated that she disapproved.

"I think a bath would have been more suited to what Mundungus Fletcher needs," she bit out. Dumbledore chuckled and even Severus lips twitched for the first time since this whole ugly business had started.

"Mundungus is a grown man, my dear Minerva," said Dumbledore. "And if he wishes to get around looking like a rag bag and smelling like a drain, that is up to him. I fear a bath would be a pointless exercise, anyway. That tobacco he favours would undo any improvement that soap and water might make the first time he lit that pipe."

"I don't know why you keep him around, Albus. He has proved himself untrustworthy on more than one occasion."

"He is useful at times."

Severus decided that it was time to wake Harry, but before he could point his wand, a commotion in the hallway beyond the door had him spinning around and Minerva and Dumbledore springing to their feet. Lupin staggered through the doorway looking the worse for wear, and carrying the unconscious Muggle. Minerva cried out and both she and Dumbledore rushed forward to help.

Dumbledore relieved Remus of his burden and Minerva guided the clearly exhausted man to the bed opposite Harry. His robes were torn and bloodstained in places.

"What happened?" Severus was at his side and had banished the robes and the bloody shirt beneath in an instant. There was a large, deep gash that was bleeding copiously below Lupin's ribs and more than one bruise where different curses had made contact.

"The Death Eaters were a little quicker than I anticipated," said Remus tiredly. He hitched in a breath when Severus pointed his wand at the gash and incanted the spell he had used earlier on Potter. The torn muscle burned as it began to mend from the inside out. After about thirty seconds, the skin melded together and the only indication that there had been a gash was an ugly, upraised, angry, pink scar. As Lupin's body was littered with so many scars anyway, one more made no difference. Lupin was beyond caring, and Severus certainly didn't.

Remus watched through exhausted eyes as Severus stalked across the room and picked up a squat jar from a bedside table. Harry was lying, still unconscious in the bed and Remus suddenly felt guilty for having neglected to inquire about him before now. "How is he?" he asked, nodding his head towards Harry when Severus had returned to his side

"He will survive to nearly die another day," said Severus dryly.

"Severus Snape!" Minerva snapped from the bedside where Dumbledore had placed the young woman. She shot a disgusted look at Severus which he ignored with supreme indifference. So then she turned her anger on Remus. "And just who is this woman, Remus? Is she a Muggle?"

Lupin had closed his eyes whilst Severus covered the smaller cuts and the bruises with the salve. The cool tingling that was the trademark of Dittany replaced the pain and made him sigh with relief. "Yes, Minerva. She is a Muggle and she is, apparently, Harry's neighbour."

"But why on earth is she here? And why is she unconscious?"

"I stunned her," said Remus, slightly shamefacedly, "and I couldn't leave her to the tender mercies of the Death Eaters."

"You stunned her?" Dumbledore repeated, but his voice was interested rather than reproving.

"I'm afraid so. It seems she was looking out for Harry and she had managed to get all the way into the bedroom while Severus was tending Harry. She was armed..."

"Armed," interrupted Minerva, shocked. "Armed with what?"

"I'm not really sure what it was. Some sort of long heavy stick with a curved, flattened end."

"And you could not separate her from this stick without stunning her?" Minerva's voice was incredulous, but before Remus could continue, Severus stepped in.

His voice was acerbic. "You were not there, Minerva, so kindly do not presume that you could have done things better..."

"Now, now children." Dumbledore held up a hand. "Perhaps you can elaborate, Severus." Minerva looked even more disapproving at being lumped in with the children.

"Of course, Albus," sneered Severus. "I have nothing more pressing to do than indulge in pointless reminiscences."

"We know how busy you are, my boy, and your patient load has just increased three fold as our rather attractive young lady seems to have suffered some spell damage herself..."

"What!" Remus sprang upright but Severus pushed him back against the pillows with a growl.

"Nothing too serious, I am sure, Remus, but I am eager to hear what else transpired at Privet Drive."

Finished attending to Lupin's wounds, Severus stalked to the bed where his would be assailant had been lain. Severus had seen, even as Lupin had staggered into the room with her in his arms that she had bloodstains on her clothes, but he had just assumed that it was her rescuer's blood. Her slim legs were encased in those hideously ugly, and decidedly unfeminine jeans that Muggles and young wizards, male and female, seemed to find so indispensable. There was a long slash in one of the jeans' legs at thigh level and blood had soaked the fabric.

The white, knobbly knit jumper she wore was rucked up, exposing an area of skin on her stomach. Minerva was in the process of straightening the jumper, pulling it downwards, presumably to preserve the woman's modesty, when Severus noticed some heavy discolouration on the strip of skin between jeans and jumper. He reached out a long fingered hand to stay Minerva's fussing and then he pushed the lower edge of the jumper up higher. The contusion was as big as his hand, purple in colour but with mottled reddish splotches. The bruise extended around to the woman's back, and Severus pushed her gently onto her uninjured side and examined her more thoroughly. Minerva and Dumbledore silently watched him.

"Is she all right, Severus?" asked Remus worriedly.

Severus did not answer immediately as he concentrated on his task, gently prodding the discoloured skin. He allowed her to roll onto her back again and then he palpated her abdomen. After about twenty seconds more of silence, he said, "It would appear she has been caught by the tail end of the curse that almost split you asunder.

"Minerva," said Severus, over his shoulder as he went to retrieve the jar of Dittany from Remus' bedside table. "...could you please banish those ridiculous jeans so that I can deal with that gash?"

Minerva looked at Remus-who was now lying with his forearm over his eyes-and then at Albus. She did not want to strip the young woman in front of the men, so before banishing the jeans, she summoned a screen to erect around the bed.

Dumbledore got the hint and went to sit with Remus, where he quietly began asking questions about what had happened after Severus had left Privet Drive.

Severus spread a liberal amount of the moss-green ointment on the bruise and it had started to fade before he had even finished. Minerva, in the meantime had divested the Muggle of the jeans. Though the wound was still bleeding, Minerva cleaned up the dried blood with her wand and covered the wound to stop the fresh blood dripping onto the sheets, now that the denim was no longer there to absorb it.

Minerva wished that Poppy was here because though she knew Severus was a fully qualified healer-more qualified in fact, than Poppy who was a matron-she would have felt more comfortable with a female attending to the young woman. Severus was not often called upon to use his skills as a healer, certainly not here at Hogwarts, at least.

Minerva knew the young witches within the school wore modern, Muggle underwear, but she was rarely confronted by it. Poppy would see much more than she ever did. So, the elderly witch was more than a little taken aback by the skimpy plum coloured underpants that the young woman had on. Minerva felt the urge to conjure a hospital gown, but Severus was still attending to the bruise and he would not appreciate her covering up all of the exposed skin-and there seemed to be quite a lot of it-that was on display.

If Severus, as staid and straight-laced a wizard as Minerva had ever known, was distracted by the bounty of bare female flesh before him, he did not let on. With a face as impassive as a blank sheet of parchment, and using the spell he had used on Remus, he healed the gash on the shapely thigh, then after applying Dittany to minimise the scaring, he left Minerva to clothe the Muggle and make her comfortable.

Severus did not have time to admire the attributes laid bare before him. He knew the Muggle was attractive; he had seen that back at Privet Drive. It had been quite a while since he had seen even a partially naked female; the last time had been in circumstances instigated by the Dark Lord, and he had been too busy feeling nauseated by what his fellow Death Eaters had been doing to admire the young bodies that, by the end of the revel, had resembled nothing more than slabs of raw meat.

This particular mass murder and torture of a family of Muggle females, a mother and her sixteen year old, identical triplet daughters, had been a mere two days before the Dark Lord's downfall.

It had been a while since he had been forced to join in the "fun", as he had taken great pains to convince the Dark Lord long before his downfall that to be successful at his potion making, his flesh had to remain unsullied by blood letting. He had endured several bouts of the Cruciatus Curse over several days but when his stance had remained firm, the Dark Lord had become bored and finally decided to let his "faithful" servant do the jobs he did best-make potions, and be on hand to attend to the injured amongst his faithful. He did insist, however, that Severus at least attend the revels when ordered to do so.

Being forced to watch had been torture every time, and though the relatively disinterested activity of observation should have acquitted him of any liability, the guilt he had felt had been enough to solidify the stain already marring his soul.

Albus watched, his eyes sad as the young man he had come to care for and respect, and whose early life had been rife with deprivation and desolation, practically stumbled out from behind the screen surrounding their Muggle guest and stalked across the room to Harry's bed.

Albus was probably the only one who knew even a portion of the details of Severus' time as a servant of the wizard whose oversized ego had led to him fashioning himself the title of "Lord Voldemort". And though the young man never spoke of it, Albus also knew how much his past deeds ate away at Severus...knew he thought he was not deserving of absolution, and refused to consider the possibility that all his actions since joining the fight against Voldemort were sufficient to allow, if not self forgiveness, then at least self acceptance.

One of Albus' greatest fears was that the boy would not rest until he had made the ultimate sacrifice as penance for his past deeds...giving up his own life. Severus was always careful because he knew his contribution to the side of the Light were invaluable. But he was unheeding of his own safety, indifferent to his ultimate survival.

Albus' heart ached for the young wizard's troubled soul.

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Harry's first sensation was, unfortunately, pain. He groaned aloud, too frightened to move. But his back was killing him and he needed to ease it.

Slowly, he arched his back, holding his breath, waiting for the pain to slice through him. But it didn't. Oh, sure, it hurt, but he could cope with this. How come he didn't feel like every cell in his body was going to scream in agony?

With an effort, he cracked his eyes open. His lids felt like they had lead weights attached to them. His vision was even worse than normal, his eyes seemed to be coated with mucous. The first blurry image he tried to focus on was a red-yellow light that seemed to flicker but before his brain could interpret what it was he was looking at, another of his senses was assaulted.

"Potter!"

Oh, no! Snape. Harry snapped his eyes closed again, the gesture entirely defensive.

Suddenly, Harry's brain was overloaded with flashes of images and sensations. Visual, auditory and tactile. And interspersed with these three, the overlying pain that he seemed to have been living with for ever, to some degree of other.

Everything replayed in rapid sequence: Having lunch with Erin, meeting Aunt Petunia and Dudley, Uncle Vernon and his murderous rage, waking to horrific pain, fear, the sound of Snape's voice, more fear and pain, Remus' voice, relief, seeing Erin unconscious, more fear-and then nothing.

Nothing until now.

"Potter! Open your eyes."

He was at Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon couldn't touch him here. He should be OK now, right? But Snape was here. Maybe that wasn't strictly ‘out of the frying pan, into the fire'; after all, Snape had never beaten him-he had squeezed his arm so hard, it had cut off his circulation, he had shaken him, thrown him to the floor and thrown a glass jar full of dead cockroaches at him-but beaten him, no.

You deserved that and more Harry. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and cracked his eyes open again, as ordered. The blurred face that he saw was not surrounded by a curtain of black hair. It was surrounded by long silvery hair and a beard. Dumbledore!

Harry squeezed his eyes tightly again and gathering his nerve, he raised his arms to try and rub the gunk out of them. The pain he was braced for didn't materialise. There was discomfort, but it was nothing compared to what it had been. Relieved beyond measure, he carefully levered himself into a sitting position and Dumbledore arranged his pillows as a back rest.

"Welcome back, Harry. You've been in the wars, my boy." Harry could tell his headmaster was smiling but his voice sounded weary and sad.

"Well, you know me Professor," croaked Harry. "I wouldn't want to upset the status quo."

Dumbledore chuckled and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "That you can joke about what you have been through just reinforces for me what a remarkable young man you are, my boy."

The snort that came from behind Dumbledore was definitely compliments of Snape and it did nothing to stem the hot blood rising in Harry's cheeks. It always mortified him when the headmaster said things like that, but it seemed Snape was hugely amused. Well, it was no secret that Snape hated him; the whole school knew that.

After last year, when Harry had thought that the headmaster had wiped him out of his life, he could only be relieved that things seemed to be back to normal now, even if the cost of normality was too high. Sirius was gone for ever. But even knowing what Dumbledore had been keeping from him for the whole of his life, Harry could not remain bitter. He didn't want to. Dumbledore had been trying to protect him from a terrible truth; he had wanted Harry to live as normal a life as possible, until he was old enough to cope with the knowledge that he had to kill or be killed. And, he had kind of made up for the neglect of last year when he had told Harry that he cared for him.

Snape's voice was full of derision when he sneered, "If you have finished chairing this meeting of the Harry Potter Fan Club, Headmaster, you may wish to move aside so that I can administer these very necessary potions."

Harry couldn't believe how Snape was talking to the headmaster and neither, apparently could Professor McGonagall, who was standing on the other side of the bed. Her presence had come to light when Harry heard, ‘Professor Snape!' spoken in the Deputy Headmistress' strictest, no-nonsense tone.

She had been glaring at Snape, but when Harry whipped his head around, she smiled at him. He could see that the smile was more than the usual, perfunctory turning up of the corners of her mouth. She actually reached out a gentle hand and pushed his fringe off his forehead. Harry couldn't help it...he flinched, just barely. But it was enough to make his professor with- draw her hand quickly. Harry saw the three wizards around his bed exchange looks.

Great! They think I'm a nutter.

Severus thought it was hardly surprising that Potter had flinched away from Minerva's touch. The only surprise was that the boy was still in the bed and not cowering in a heap on the floor. The degree of torture he had just been through would have been enough to have most men cowering. What, between Vernon Dursley and the Dark Lord, Harry Potter was lucky to be alive.

He handed the boy one phial of potion at a time and without question, Harry drank them down, managing to do so without pulling the gruesome faces that usually accompanied their ingestion. The boy was the very definition of Gryffindor pride and stubbornness. Dumbledore and Minerva looked on with fond pride, as if the foolish child had just defeated the Dark Lord a second time.

"Why don't you two go and rest?" said Severus in neutral tones as he took the empty phials and put them back in his bag.. "It's hardly necessary for all of us to be here now that Potter is out of danger and Lupin is back safely." In actual fact, Severus was concerned for the older witch and wizard, Dumbledore in particular. The old coot didn't know when to stop.

Harry-who was beginning to droop, as one of the potions had been Dreamless Sleep-now snapped to attention again. ‘Remus is here?' He forced himself further upright and automatically reached out a hand to the bedside table where he patted around for a few seconds, nearly knocking the water bottle over.

"What are you doing Potter?"

Harry widened his eyes in an attempt to keep them from closing. "My glasses. Where are they?"

Severus whipped the pillows out from behind Harry. "You will be asleep in a moment, so your glasses are superfluous to needs."

"But..." Harry's speech was rapidly becoming slurred. "...I need to shee Remush." He did not realise it, but he was sliding down the bed. He was asleep before he was fully horizontal.

Severus put his wand away and turned to see the amused looks on his two companions faces. "I always find that actions speak louder than words with stubborn Gryffindors." He pinned them both with a beady eye. "All, stubborn Gryffindors, no matter their age."

Minerva drew herself up and looked as if she would like nothing better than to take young Severus Snape over her knee, but Dumbledore looked as serene as ever, though extremely weary.

"Your concern is appreciated, Severus but I am expecting Alastor and Nymphadora. They are following up the Dursley's for me. If it turns out that Petunia and Dudley Dursley are safe and well-and of course, I hope this is the case..." Severus scowled at this pronouncement and Minerva sniffed, "...we have to find out why Voldemort was able to get past the blood protection at the Dursley home."

Dumbledore made sure that Harry was well covered, as the night had turned quite cool. Then he turned away and took out his wand, pointing it towards the end of the ward where there was a large area between the last bed and the wall dividing Poppy's office from the ward. As Severus watched, impressed as ever with this amazing wizard's effortless magic, a small table and three of Dumbledore's signature chintz armchairs appeared.

"After we have some tea, I think we should wake our very attractive guest." Dumbledore walked towards the table and though he was as upright as ever, his step was slow. Minerva hurried along at his side, a worried frown on her face.

"Albus, do you think it wise to wake her just now. She is a Muggle, after all."

Dumbledore looked supremely unconcerned as he pointed his wand towards Poppy's office and his silver Phoenix Patronus swept from the end of his wand and disappeared through the lifeless grate.

"My dear Minerva," he said wearily, sinking into one of the deep, comfortable armchairs, "the young lady has been unconscious for quite long enough."

Minerva was not convinced and she launched into her reasons as to why the Muggle should not be woken inside Hogwarts. Severus, who had stalked into Poppy's dispensary and was arranging the rest of the phials and jars he had bought through from his laboratory in the glass fronted cabinets, listened to the argument-though argument didn't really describe what was taking place between Minerva and Albus. It was rather difficult to have an argument with someone as determinedly unruffled as Albus Dumbledore.

"Minerva, as the girl is already inside the castle, the protective spells that convince Muggles that they are looking at a highly unstable and dangerous ruin are no longer in effect. She will see what we see."

"My point exactly, Albus. This is hardly a modern ward in a modern Muggle hospital." Minerva swept her hand down her deep green robes. "And we..." she gestured with her head to include Albus, "...are most definitely not what she would be expecting to see in any hospital."

"Perhaps not. But it will be obvious to her that we mean her no harm."

Minerva threw up her arms. "But she will remember what happened at Privet Drive."

"No doubt."

"Albus! See sense!"

A very old, slightly dented silver tea-service shimmered into existence on the table along with three cups and saucers and a platter of mixed sandwiches.

"Ah, good." Dumbledore clapped his hands together. He looked as pleased as a child confronted by an ice-cream sundae. He picked up a sandwich and bit it in half. Minerva threw her arms up again and turned to see Severus standing in the doorway, a smirk on his face. It was so nice to watch someone else pushed to the brink of insanity by the infuriating old coot.

"Say something, Severus. I think he's delirious with fatigue."

Dumbledore popped the last bite of a smoked salmon and cucumber sandwich in his mouth and chewing with evident relish, he picked up the teapot and began pouring. He waved at the empty chairs with his free hand and after swallowing, he said, "Sit Minerva. You too Severus. Have a cup of tea and something to eat. I think we all need to unwind."

Minerva opened her mouth again but Dumbledore held up his hand, this time to stop his deputy in her stride. "Minerva, sit down. It is past midnight and we have all been stressed badly today. You need to relax."

Minerva was obviously ready to chew nails but she could also see a lost cause when it stared her in the face and she grudgingly sat down and picked up a fine china cup decorated with roses and filled with deep burgundy tea, just the way she liked it.

Severus took a cup also but he did not sit down. He looked over at Potter, but the boy was in a sound sleep, his young face for once, free of tension. He looked at Lupin and he too was sleeping soundly, but his face was still careworn, even in sleep. The werewolf was his own age but he looked as though he had lived ten lifetimes to Severus' one. And Severus' own life had not been easy.

The only noise for several minutes was that of clinking china,  Dumbledore chewing and the odd sniff of disapproval from Minerva. Finally, with a sigh of contentment, Dumbledore put his empty cup down and folded his hands across his stomach.

"That was most refreshing. Now that I have my second wind, we will attend to the young lady." Minerva's lips thinned but she refrained from belabouring the point anymore. She did follow Dumbledore though. Severus too, followed. At Erin's bedside, they all gazed at her for several seconds.

Then, without further ado, Dumbledore took out his wand, pointed it at Erin's chest and said quietly, but firmly, Enervate.

Erin stirred lazily, and then she winced. As comfortable and warm as she felt, she also felt oddly stiff. Why was she so sore? And why was it so hard to open her eyes? What had she done yesterday?

She furrowed her brow and tried to remember yesterday. She had-what had she done? She couldn't remember. Anything! Suddenly frightened, Erin became agitated. She couldn't open her eyes. Oh, God! What was the matter with her.

Suddenly Erin screamed. A gentle hand had touched her shoulder. With the greatest effort, she wrenched her eyelids apart at the same time as she cringed away from that hand.

"Do not be frightened, my dear. You are perfectly safe."

Frantically, Erin looked around. There were three people standing around the bed she was lying in. She knew it wasn't her bed, and she had never before seen the huge room she was in. It looked like a dormitory. She could see other beds in the dim light.

She screamed again, but to her utter amazement, no sound emerged. She clapped both hands to her mouth, why, she did not know as there was no noise to muffle. Her eyes were wide with terror and she could feel her heart trying to escape her chest. She knew she had screamed because her mouth had been wide open and her throat hurt. If she had made a noise, Erin knew it would have been piercing.

A man-an old, old man dressed in what looked like an elaborate midnight blue dressing gown, an old fashioned bed cap, and sporting the longest silver hair and beard she had ever seen outside of a children's book of fairytales was leaning over her. On his right was a woman. She too looked to be dressed in a dressing gown, but this one was of dark green. Her hat looked like a witches hat for heaven's sake.

The third person stood at the end of the bed and all she could see of him was a pale face surrounded by long black hair. His arms were crossed and he was clothed in...a black dressing gown? Though he was staring directly at her, Erin couldn't see his face in any detail because his long hair fell in curtains either side, hiding much of his features, but she had the impression that they were set in very sombre lines indeed. Also, the light was very dim, and it had a yellowish quality to it, and it seemed to be...flickering?

But of course it wasn't really flickering, and none of these people were here; this was a dream. She remembered the hand touching her, and the voice speaking to her-and her scream that made no noise. Not a dream then-a nightmare! If she let herself go back to sleep...

"If you can promise that you will not scream again, my dear, I will lift the charm that has temporarily deprived you of your voice,..."

Erin's eyes snapped back to the most spectacular figment of her imagination, the one with the magnificent silver hair and beard, the one who had spoken to her a minute ago. Now, he was smiling at her, and his incredible deep blue eyes were actually twinkling at her through a pair of half moon spectacles that looked like the ones Geppetto wore in the illustrations in her old book of Pinocchio.

The woman wasn't smiling; she was looking quite severe. Perhaps she was the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. And the man with the black hair and  the unrelenting black dressing gown... he could be The Black Prince. After all, this was her dream...no, nightmare. The characters could be whomever she wanted them to be.

Erin closed her eyes again, but the gentle, soothing voice continued.

"...though I can understand your fear and confusion, I am afraid I had to silence you as our other patients would awaken and Harry has..."

Erin's eyes snapped open again. Harry! Oh, my God, Harry! She shot up in the bed, frantic and fully awake.

But her dream characters didn't disappear. Geppetto touched her arm again and the Wicked Witch of the West put a hand on her knee through the bedcovers. The Black Prince still stood, dark and forbidding at the foot of the bed. All he did in response to her sudden movement was uncross his arms, but that simple movement turned him from seemingly indolently relaxed to fully alert.

This was not a dream. Of course it's a dream, just an amazingly realistic one. These dream people seemed so real; this place she was in seemed so real. This lovely, comfortable dream bed felt real. If this was real, as strange and ridiculous as that may seem, then these people must have just come from a fancy dress party. Damn good costumes, though.

Erin shook her head in an effort to dispel this nonsensical illusion as she slapped at the hands that were touching her, trying to sooth her. But she wasn't being soothed; she was becoming more and more hysterical, flailing wildly. If she could have made a noise, she would have been screaming at the top of her lungs for them to leave her alone, to tell her where Harry was, and ask where the hell she was? She was screaming at the top of her lungs, she just wasn't making any noise.

Minerva had known this would be a bad idea and now the silly girl was getting hysterical. Albus seemed loathe to use more magic but this could not go on. She would be on the floor in a moment. Minerva pulled her wand but before she could take action, the girl fell back on the pillow with a muffled whump and her flailing limbs snapped together. The only things that now moved were her wide, terrified eyes which flitted from Albus, to Minerva and then to Severus standing at the end of the bed with his ebony wand in his hand.

Erin stared at the wand, not knowing what it was, but knowing it was responsible for her inability to move. She could not vocalize, and now, she could not move. The hysteria that a moment ago had had a physical outlet, was now trapped inside and Erin felt as though her brain was going to explode. The only other expression of her horror other than her wild eyes was the agitated movement of air in and out of her nose and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. If  I'm paralysed from head to toe, why can I breathe?

It was too much. Erin thought she was going to have a stroke. She was only twenty-eight for God's sake; she couldn't have a stroke...she was healthy...both physically and mentally. Wasn't she? Surely this had to be a nightmare and she would wake up. She had to wake up! But instead, she felt everything blurring around the edges...

"Severus!"

Erin heard the voice from afar-Geppetto's not happy-and now everything's spinning, spin...wait, what's that?...it feels so nice, sort of soft and warm, like an evening breeze after a beautiful, early summer's day-only it's inside my skull. And now I feel all floaty; but nothing's spinning anymore. Now who's speaking? It's not Geppetto.

Erin found she had control over her eyes now-they were no longer rolling around inside her skull and everything was in focus again. She could now see that it was the Black Prince who was speaking and he sounded angry.

But even angry, Prince has the most beautiful voice. It's like black velvet stroking my senses.

Erin rolled her eyes, deliberately this time (how nice to have control over at least part of her body). Oh, God, she sounded like she was in a romance novel. She focused on Prince again, as best she could when unable to move her head. He was still angry and black velvet was still spilling out of his mouth. That voice might be out of a romance novel, but he was most definitely out of a horror story!

Now Prince was standing with his arms crossed again, and that thin, black stick was dangling from between two fingers of his right hand. She could tell he was still angry, but he stood and listened to Geppetto though it was obvious he did not like what he was hearing.

Geppetto sounded angry-not livid, but far from happy. "...I did not wish her to be subjected to more magic, Severus. Her senses are now overloaded. She will have a hard time coming to terms with anything we tell her."

Magic! Erin's eye's swivelled to the side.  What was Geppetto talking about? Were they magicians? This dream was just getting more and more weird.

"She was not to be appeased, Albus. Her hysteria was mounting." Prince-no, Severus sounded a lot more angry than Gepp-Albus. He had flung out a black clad arm towards her, one long finger pointing. ‘We should just Obliviate her and take her back to Privet Drive.'

Yes, take me back to Privet Drive. And what on earth was Obliviate?

An odd, uneven stumping noise reached Erin's ears even over the altercation. Prince had spun around and that black stick was taut in his hand and it was pointing at...what...she couldn't see. But she could still hear and a gruff, growling voice said, "No-one will be going back to Privet Drive, Snape. There's nothing left."

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Who was this new player in her dream? And what exactly did he mean? How could a street disappear? These thoughts wafted gently across Erin's consciousness but the full impact did not impinge on her relaxed mind.

But now there was silence. But it was so loud, it hurt Erin's ears. Severus spun back to face her. He still looked angry but it was different somehow. He was angry about something else, not about her. Perhaps the fact that Privet Drive wasn't there anymore?

That odd stumping was coming closer and two other figures came into her limited field of vision at the end of the bed.

She had become docile ever since she had felt that gloriously soft, warm breeze wafting through her mind earlier. But the people who had just arrived were difficult to remain calm over. They were very different from the three in dressing gowns she was already acquainted with. And from what she could see, there wasn't a dressing gown in sight.

Erin stared at the person who was standing next to Prince. She felt as if her eyes were bugging out of her head. It wasn't his clothes that were so different-no, he wore what looked to be a coat of some sort; it looked like leather, but different somehow. But his face! It didn't really look that much like a human face, it was so battered and scarred. and his eyes...Erin shut her eyes to block out the sight; she could still do that. But when she tried to squeeze them tightly shut, her facial muscles would not allow her to do so, so her upper lids just blocked the man from view.

"Who's this?" asked the gruff voice.

"And why's she in a Full Body Bind?" Erin lifted her eyelids again when this question was asked because this voice definitely belonged to a female. But before she could focus on the voice's owner, she heard, ‘REMUS!' cried with a great deal of distress and then the sound of rapid footsteps.

A movement beside Dumbledore had Erin's eyes flicking sideways and she saw the Witch move away. Vaguely, from wherever the two women had gone, Erin could here their voices but not what was being said because Geppetto was talking again.

"This Alastor, is a resident of Privet Drive-a neighbour of Harry's, I believe-who went to his rescue and had to be taken from the Dursley home when Severus went to fetch Harry, or else be left to the tender mercies of the Death Eaters."

Erin saw Geppetto brandish a stick like Prince's only this one was a paler wood, and she was suddenly able to move, though when she opened her mouth, still no sound emerged. Her instinct was to scramble off the bed and get away from these people but she still felt calm and relaxed and though she knew that was what she should do, she didn't. She turned her head to Geppetto. He smiled at her and those amazing eyes were kind behind his half-moon spectacles.

"My dear, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I know you must be very frightened and confused, but please believe me when I say that I mean you no harm. Nor does anyone whom you will meet whilst you are here. You are under my protection. Do you understand?'

Erin swallowed but she nodded her head. Albus Dumbledore. Strange name, but she would stick with Geppetto for now. And she would stick with Prince, even though Geppetto had called him Severus earlier. She heard a noise of disgust from the end of the bed and knew it had come from Prince Severus. But it was the gruff voiced individual who said, "Is that wise Albus. Perhaps we should just take her back to Privet Drive and let the Muggle police deal with her."

"No!" was the simple and succinct reply. "I will not take the chance that Death Eaters will be prowling around Number Four..."

"I told you Albus, there is no Number Four..."

Albus held up his hand. "Thank you Alastor. I had perceived as much." He turned back to Erin and the stern look was replaced with that calming smile.

"I know that this must all be very strange to you, and if you promise not to scream, I will release you from the Silencing Charm."

For some reason, Erin's eyes darted back to Prince. His arms were crossed again and he was looking totally forbidding. She was not entirely convinced that she could trust Geppetto's declaration that no-one would hurt her. Prince looked entirely capable of committing murder. It was very obvious that he did not agree with Geppetto but there was also no doubt that Geppetto was very much in charge. She avoided looking at the dark, forbidding man because quite frankly, he scared her more than anything else had so far in this alternate universe that she had somehow stumbled into. The only thing that linked her to reality was the mention of Harry and Privet Drive.

Erin had to find out what was going on and the only way she was going to do that was to communicate with these people. An hysterical giggle would have burst from her lips if she could have made a noise. Communicate...hell, she was pretty sure she was dreaming! What else could this be. And Harry and Privet Drive featured in her dream because Harry had been very much on her mind lately and Privet Drive was-well, it was home to her and Harry.

Erin looked back at Geppetto. She nodded her head and waited for him to raise that stick-but he didn't. This time, he just waved a hand in a gentle movement over her throat and Erin felt a tickle, and she had to cough. For the first time in she did not know how long, she heard a noise issuing from her own throat. Her hand instinctively went to her throat and rubbed, even though it wasn't in the least sore.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly sat up. As soon as her head was off the pillows, Geppetto solicitously put them against the headboard. Erin nodded her thanks and leaned back. Then the old man waved his hand again and a chair zoomed across the aisle and into his hand. Erin stared, amazed, at the chair. Geppetto sat down and focused his whole attention on her. Prince Severus and that other...other man still stood and watched.

She looked to the side, past Geppetto and saw the young woman who had arrived with the very scary man. She was sitting by the bed of another man who was sound asleep. The woman was much younger than anyone else present (though the Prince was not ancient either) and her hair was a startling shade of pink. She looked very modern and was really the only person Erin had seen so far (in her dream?) who looked anywhere close to normal, pink hair and all.

Across the aisle, the Wicked Witch of the West was checking on another person. She was adjusting his bedclothes with one hand whilst running the  fingers of her other hand through a mop of very messy, black hair. Erin sat bolt upright in the bed again and stared. Dumbledore, Severus, and Mad Eye turned to look at what had caught her attention.

"That's Harry," she said, stupidly. Dumbledore touched her hand where it was resting on the bed.

"Yes, my dear, that's Harry."

And then everything came rushing back into Erin's mind so quickly, it was like a very fast train, roaring through a tunnel. She reeled from the shock as the sequence of events fast forwarded: seeing a man dressed in black and looking very furtive crossing the Dursley's lawn, racing out of her house with a hockey stick in her hand because she knew Harry was home alone, finding the front door of Harry's home unlocked and sneaking inside, and hearing noises from upstairs and tiptoeing upwards.

Erin's hand crept to her mouth and her eyes widened as she remembered the shattered door, the sight of blood on the sheets, Harry on the floor and a black haired man, dressed in some kind of long black coat or cloak that spread out around him as he knelt on the floor next to the unconscious boy. He had been pointing a black stick at Harry.

And then...nothing.

Nothing until she had awoken in this bed surrounded by these strange people. Erin threw the covers off and became aware that she was wearing a pair of striped pyjamas. Fleetingly, she wondered who had changed her and where her own clothes were but she was already trying to slide off the bed.

The floatiness that had perfused her senses for the last fifteen minutes or so was obviously wearing off because Erin was starting to feel very angry. Angry and frustrated. She was so not in control at the moment and she hated not being in control.

Geppetto was standing again and was trying to restrain her with firm, but gentle hands, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prince pull that stick out of wherever he had stashed it before. It looked as if it just appeared out of nowhere.

"I want to see Harry," she cried, struggling against Geppetto's hold, and then, before Severus could point his wand at her, she looked at him with narrowed eyes that flashed green fire and said between gritted teeth, ‘And don't even think about paralysing me again, pal!"

A feminine bark of laughter from behind Geppetto told Erin that the young woman with the pink hair had appreciated her admonition. Perhaps Prince was not very popular, but if he always looked as bad tempered and forbidding as he did now, that would be no surprise.

Erin would have laughed herself at the stunned looks on the faces of the men around her bed, but she had just come to a startling realisation about the Black Prince, Severus, with his black velvet voice. Her furious gaze travelled over the long black hair, and long black coat, and the black stick in his long fingered hand. Her eyes then flew up and met his. Of course, his eyes were also black.

"It was you I saw!" she spat. "You were hurting Harry." Prince drew himself up with what Erin could only describe as regal disdain and his austere features were overtaken with haughtiness.

Erin had stopped struggling and was grasping Geppetto's forearm where it lay across her upper chest in a restraining hold. Inconsequentially, she marvelled at just how strong the old man was. His arm felt like tempered steel through the silken sleeve of his dressing gown.

Prince was speaking and Erin focused on his mouth, wondering how that thin-lipped cavity could produce such an hypnotic sound. But then she registered the meaning of his bile tainted diatribe and she stiffened with fury.

"I can assure you, my dear woman, if I had wished to hurt Potter, he would not be so far down the road to recovery now."

"Thank you Severus," inserted Geppetto, almost as though the old man was used to censuring the Black Prince. He managed to maintain his air of haughty boredom.

"My Dear..." continued Geppetto in his calm, but authorative voice. "I assure you that Severus did not hurt Harry. He was, in fact, in the process of helping him when you came upon them."

Erin dragged her eyes away from Prince. She released Geppetto's arm and shakily pulled herself back in the bed so she was leaning on the pillows again. She did not want to look at Geppetto. She felt a little ashamed as she had told him that she would remain calm. Erin was not the sort of person who disrespected her elders. Geppetto had been polite and solicitous, right from the moment she had become aware that she was in a very strange place indeed. So, even through her anger and her fear and her confusion, Erin could still be embarrassed at her lack of control.

Also, the Wicked Witch of the West was back at her bedside and Erin could feel the waves of disapproval radiating from her. In fact, Geppetto was the only one here who seemed not to be disapproving of her. No, that was not quite right. The man standing beside Prince was studying her intently but he did not appear to be angry or disapproving. Perhaps suspicious better described him.

Erin had to get up the nerve to really look at the man; Alastor, she thought Geppetto had called him. He was truly the stuff of nightmares. He had a weathered face that looked as though nearly every inch of it had been slashed with a razor blade, and one sweep of the blade had actually taken a huge slice out of his nose. But it was his eyes that drew ones attention because they did not match. One was an uninteresting flat, muddy brown but the other was a bright, electric blue that didn't even look like a human eye. It did not work like a human eye either. The thing whizzed around very fast in its socket-up, down, side to side. And if that wasn't sickening enough, it spun around so that the electric blue iris disappeared entirely before reappearing after seemingly having done a 360 degree revolution. In fact, the only thing that really made you think it was an eye was the fact that it was where an eye would be in a human face.

Dumbledore was still talking. "You will be able to talk to Harry when he wakes up. But I think the first order of business should be introductions. We know that you are a neighbour of Harry's. Is it correct that your name is Erin?" Erin nodded and Dumbledore smiled. "A lovely name for, might I say, a very attractive young woman. A very brave young woman to go to the assistance of a young friend whom she thought was in trouble.'

Erin flushed to the roots of her red hair-and she knew that that was not a good look. She could also tell that her hair looked like a birch broom in a fit, and she was dressed in a pair of unattractive, A-sexual, stripped pyjamas. When she saw the Prince roll his eyes, her blush intensified.

Lovely?...I think not. Prince obviously thinks not also. Brave?...Mum would say foolhardy. Prince, I suppose would say idiotic.

"Well, Erin, as I said earlier, my name is Albus Dumbledore. This..." he gestured towards the Wicked Witch of the West, ‘...is Minerva McGonagall...'

Minerva gave a curt nod and a stiff smile. Erin tried to smile back but she was too tense and the effort was half-hearted at best.

"The gentleman in the black robes is Severus Snape, and the one next to him is Alastor Moody." Dumbledore stepped to the side and indicated Tonks. "And this young lady is Nymphadora Tonks..."

Tonks dragged her eyes away from Remus' face when she heard her name. She twiddled her fingers at Erin and the smile she threw her way was friendly enough, just distracted. "Nymphadora prefers to be known as Tonks," continued Dumbledore. "The gentleman she is hovering over is Remus Lupin."

Erin had not really looked at the occupant of that bed earlier, but now she saw a man whose face looked exhausted, even in repose. He had greying, light brown hair that was slightly too long, though not as long as Prince Severus. Erin though he was quite nice looking despite several scars that marred his visage. But unlike Alastor Moody, these scars did not make Remus Lupin sinister. Even though he was asleep, Erin thought this man looked kind and gentle. Ms Tonks obviously thought he had something going for him.

"Perhaps Erin, we might get further, faster, if you asked us questions. That way, you will learn everything you feel it imperative to know as quickly as possible, and later, we can fill in any gaps. If we cannot answer a question, we will tell you. However we will not lie. Does that sound reasonable?"

Erin nodded  and Dumbledore crossed his legs and stacked his hands on his uppermost knee. He looked politely expectant. Before Erin could open her mouth though, Mr. Moody grunted, "Might as well get comfortable," and he performed the same trick as Geppetto had earlier, making a chair zoom into his hand. He however, used his stick-his stick was a browny colour.

Erin stared at the stick as Mr. Moody tucked it away somewhere inside his coat. Her brow furrowed and her eyes flicked from one person to another where they surrounded her bed.

She had just had the most bizarre thought. Of course, if she was dreaming, then her reasoning would be perfectly acceptable, after all, anything was possible in a dream. But if this was real...

Don't be stupid!

She focused on Geppetto. She felt most comfortable talking to him. "Why would you not be able to answer some of my questions?"

Geppetto chuckled and Mr. Moody let out a bark. The noise in no way resembled a sound of mirth but Erin was sure it was an indication of amusement. Tonks had definitely laughed though. She might not want to leave her man's side, but she was listening very carefully.

The Wick...no, I'm going to have to stop calling her that. Ms McGonagall sniffed and Prince Severus shifted his feet. He did not want to sit down. He wanted to continue to look forbidding and that was more effectively done when he was upright and uptight.

"Very astute question my dear. It would not be a case of not being able to answer any question, it would be a case of deciding not to answer if I think the answer would upset you unduly."

"But that would only be your opinion. How can you possibly know how upset an answer would make me?"

"I am afraid my opinion will have to hold sway for the moment, Erin. However, I can promise not to underestimate you. I know you are brave, and I can now see that you are also very intelligent and perceptive, so I am sure that you are also very astute"

"OK." Erin dragged out the ‘K' in an effort to stem her annoyance. Best get on with things and see where she ended up or she might wake up before she got all the answers.

"Where am I?"

"You are at Hogwarts, my dear."

"Hogwarts? What's Hogwarts?'

"Hogwarts is a castle in Scotland that houses a very old school." And now Geppetto asked his own questions. ‘How well do you know Harry, Erin? Do you know for instance that he attends a boarding school?

The people around the bed watched in surprise as the young woman's lips thinned and her hands clenched on top of the blankets. She looked past Ms McGonagall and saw the mop of black hair above the blankets in the bed diagonally opposite hers. As she watched, Harry turned over, dragging the covers with him as he did so and burying himself further under them.

"Erin?"

Erin took a deep breath. "I've only known Harry for three days," she said. "But I had heard about him from several of the neighbours over the time I had been at my parents home." She glared at Severus and he could not figure out what he had done to deserve that particular look of censure. He found out when she continued.

"Like you, Mr Snape, none of my neighbours had anything nice to say about Harry. They had been told by his family that he attended a school for delinquent boys." Erin was gratified to see the looks of shock on everyone's faces. Even the sneer that had appeared on Prince Severus' face when she had accused him of not having anything nice to say about Harry, slipped slightly.

"What on Earth do you mean?" Ms McGonagall had spoken to her directly for the first time. She sounded highly affronted. "How could anyone think Harry is a delinquent?"

"I gather no-one ever tried to get to know Harry himself. They believed those relatives of his when they said he was away all year at ‘St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys'."

Minerva turned on Dumbledore. "I tried to tell you fifteen years ago that you shouldn't leave that dear little baby with those people, Albus," she said in distressed tones. "Now look what's happened. This appears to be the culmination of years of systematic abuse."

For the first time since Erin had seen him, Geppetto looked anything but gentle and calm. He looked very angry indeed and he was suddenly a little scary. "If there had been any other way Minerva, I would have taken it. It was not a choice, it was a necessity. Harry survived until he got to Hogwarts. You know they were still out there, looking for him."

Dumbledore bowed his head and sighed deeply. The elderly lady next to him looked close to tears. Their attitudes of distress and anger showed Erin clearly that these two at least cared for Harry. It was hard to tell what Mr. Moody was thinking but Prince Severus' face was blank, his black eyes expressionless as he stared back at Erin. She bristled at his seeming lack of feeling. He was the one who had gone to help Harry and he looked entirely uninterested in his horrible history.

But as she dragged her eyes away, anger coursing through her, she noticed a nerve jumping near the corner of his jaw. What did that mean? Was he perhaps not quite as indifferent as he wanted to appear? Erin could not imagine how he could be indifferent when he had seen and actually tended the injured boy. Her quick glimpse of the blood stains on Harry's sheets had horrified her even as she had been readying herself to attack, and that sight alone had shown her just how badly hurt he must have been. In those few seconds, her fear for Harry had leant her the strength and resolve to attack another human being. So she could not believe that Prince Severus had been unmoved by young Harry Potter's plight.

"Well..." said Geppetto. "We certainly didn't advance very far with the questions. So, I think explanations would be best. But first, Erin, let me assure you that you are not dreaming."

Erin's mouth fell open. "H-how did you kn...?"

"It is obvious from the looks of confusion and disbelief that compete for space on your very lovely, but highly expressive face. Everything..." Dumbledore encompassed all the people and the dormitory style room with a wave of his hand, "...that you see is real. We are real, in our ancient style of dress. This room is just one of two hundred odd in a castle that is over a thousand years old. The castle is called Hogwarts as is the school Harry attends here.

"I am the headmaster and Severus and Minerva are both teachers here. Severus is also a healer."

"A healer. You mean a doctor?"

"A healer is the equivalent of a doctor. But in our world, we call them healers."

Erin licked her lips. "Your world?"

"Yes, my dear. The magical world. The world of witches and wizards."

Erin gaped at Dumbledore. He was looking perfectly serious. In fact, he was looking the quintessential wizard. Long silvery hair and beard, half moon spectacles that added to the persona of the wisdom of the ages, beautifully flamboyant robes of deepest, darkest blue with the moon in all its phases embroidered around the loose cuffs, and a cap with a little golden tassel dangling down level with the brim. So, if Geppetto-or Albus Dumbledore was a wizard, then the stick she had seen him brandish must be a magic wand. They all had wands. Different sorts of wood and different lengths, with decorative carvings up and down their lengths. Or maybe they were lengths of plastic made to look like wood.

A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You said that you would not lie to me, Mr Dumbledore,' Erin admonished, but she smiled as she said it."

"I assure you my dear, I have not lied. All of the people in this room are magical."

"Harry included?"

"Yes, Erin. Harry included."

Erin crossed her arms and raised her chin. "Now I know you're lying. If Harry was magical, he would have been able to get away from those truly awful relatives. Or are you going to tell me that the Dursleys are magical also?"

"Harry is an underage wizard. He cannot use his magic at will. And no, the Dursleys are definitely not magical."

Erin threw her arms up in the air and slapped them down on the covers. "Oh, this is just getting more and more farcical. Underage wizard, indeed!" In a flash, she threw back the covers and was sliding out of the opposite side of the bed from where Minerva and Albus were stationed, the pyjama-pants legs sliding up to reveal shapely ankles.

The only person prepared for this sudden bid for freedom was Severus. This time, however, knowing that Albus did not wish it, he resisted hexing Erin herself.

"Protego!"

Erin's feet came up against an invisible barrier. Her head snapped around towards the end of the bed and she glared. She hadn't needed to hear that black velvet voice to know it was him. It seemed he took delight in thwarting her. The Black Prince was standing there with a superior smirk on his face. She supposed it was a change from the blank façade he had been wearing up to now. His black wand was in his hand.

She pounded her fists on the covers. "Let me out of this bed!" she demanded, knowing that she was acting like a petulant child and knowing that would only inspire him to piss her off even more. Of course, the smirk became even more pronounced and Erin felt an overwhelming desire to slap it right off his smug face. To that end, and with a scream of rage, she launched herself towards the end of the bed. 

Severus raised his wand again but before he could have the pleasure of stopping the spitting and clawing virago in her tracks, and before Erin could raise her hand to his face, Moody, and Minerva had cast shield charms and Albus-forward thinking as ever-had cast a cushioning charm so that when Erin crashed into the invisible wall, she did not hurt herself. Immediately upon the heels of the cushioning charm, Albus cast a  Muffliato charm so that Remus and Harry might still have a chance to remain undisturbed. He did not want to cast the silencing charm on Erin herself, reluctant to alter her physiology further with even a simple charm.

"If you don't let me go, you'll all be sorry when I do get away. The police will be very interested in this little operation," she yelled, clearly forgetting about Harry and Remus in her anger, as she had no way of knowing that she could not be heard by them.

Albus held up his hand but Erin had had it with the kid gloves approach. "I don't care how nice and calm you're being Mr Dumbledore, if indeed that is your name. Kidnapping is against the law. I am here against my will and I imagine Harry is also."

She pushed her wildly dishevelled hair out of her face. "I suppose you're the leader of some mad religious cult. You call yourself witches and wizards but I'm pretty sure they're misnomers. In actuality, I would say a more accurate title would be extortionists.  But I'm sure I don't know why you targeted me. I have nothing I can contribute to your little operation.

"Magic!" she spat. "The only magic involved in this whole nightmare is the magic of drugs. That's how you managed to get me to wherever I am now without me knowing. What drugs did you use? Whatever they were, you're going to have to keep me drugged up to the eyeballs because I will never join your little community. And I'm pretty sure Harry won't either.

"I suppose it was some kind of hallucinogen. That's why it appears that you can do strange and wonderful things by waving those silly little sticks around. Great props, by the way. You've gone all out with the costumes and the..." Erin sketched quotation marks in midair with her fingers, "...wands."

The wizards and the witch standing around the bed had been staring at Erin in various stages of shock and bemusement. Even Tonks had turned in her chair to listen. Dumbledore had obviously included her within the boundaries of his Muffliato charm.

"Does anyone know what in Merlin she is raving about?" asked Moody in his rough voice and Erin let out another cry of rage and dug her fingers into her scalp.

"Erin..."

"Oh, for Goodness sake, leave the poor woman alone." Erin looked up. The young woman with the pink hair had left the bedside of the sleeping man-Remus, wasn't it?-and had inserted herself between Geppetto and Ms McGonagall. "Can't you all see that she's totally overwhelmed by everything she sees and hears."

Erin dashed the tears of anger and frustration out of her eyes. The woman-Tonks?-was now rubbing comforting circles on her back. Erin would have fought any of the others off if they had tried to touch her at this stage, but maybe it was because this person looked like a normal human being that she submitted to her touch.

"I suppose you think you could do a better job of explaining things to a person who clearly does not wish to understand, Nymphadora?" The voice was black velvet but his words were stupidity themselves. Of course she wished to understand.

Please, someone help me understand!

Tonks reached into a pocket in her skirt and removed a folded wad of tissues. She handed them to Erin.

"Well Severus, I could hardly do a worse job, could I?" she turned to Dumbledore whilst Erin sniffed and separated one tissue from the wad and began to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

"I'm sorry Sir," she said. "But you're going about this all wrong. You're trying to explain a concept that Muggles only ever see as illusions and trickery performed by clever conmen, and seen as entertainment or told as fairy stories to amuse children. Will you let me try and explain?"

Ms McGonagall had drawn herself up and was looking every bit as uptight as her hair in its severe bun. Prince was sneering but amazingly, he still managed to look bored to death and Mr. Moody, seemingly content to let others handle explanations, had leaned back in his chair and stuck his leg out as though to ease a stiffness.

But Geppetto inclined his head towards Tonks. "Certainly, Nymphadora. As you say, my dear, you could hardly do a worse job. We shall go and fortify ourselves with another cup of tea. I shall have a tray made up for you both. I imagine Erin could do with the bolster?"

He peered at Erin over the top of his Geppetto spectacles, his eyebrows raised in question. Erin sniffed into her tissue and gave a small, miserable nod. He offered her a, regretful smile then, holding his arms out as though to gather his chicks around him, he set off down the room.

Ms McGonagall followed, her back stiff and Moody lumbered to his feet and stumped after them. Prince Severus glared at the two women. Erin tried to give the look back tenfold but found that she was really too exhausted to exchange death glares with him. She looked down at her fingers where she was shredding the tissue to pieces.

"Did you want to say something, Professor Snape?" asked Tonks in a jaunty voice.

"Just remember, Nymphadora, this is not a garden tea-party. It would not be advisable to sugar-coat things."

Tonks raised a fine eyebrow. "Nor is it necessary to drown everything in armadillo bile, sir."

Erin's head had snapped up again at Tonks's words and she saw the Prince throw both of them a look that suggested that what he would like to do to the two of them, at the very least, was bang there heads together. So in an effort to prevent himself from resorting to violence, and in lieu of letting loose another verbal onslaught, he channelled all his fury into his stride as he stalked after the others.

Erin stared in disbelief at Tonks as she hoisted herself onto the end of the bed and sat cross-legged, facing Erin.

"What?" asked Tonks.

"Armadillo bile?"

8888

Severus followed the others and threw himself down into one of the extra chairs that Dumbledore had conjured. What he would not like to do to Nymphadora Tonks to teach her a lesson about respect for her elders. Smart mouthed, disrespectful little Hufflepuff minx. And as for the other one. She needed to be taught a lesson about self control.

He was not totally ignorant of what the woman must be going through, as insensitive as the rest of the world liked to consider him. He had seen her fear and her confusion. Like Potter, every thought and every emotion flashed across her face like a Muggle film, plain for all to see. Even when she had been trying for stoicism, he had been able to see that she was nearly insensible with fear and reeling with confusion.

When she had first awoken, he had seen clearly that she was convinced that she was dreaming. But then reality had crept up-but a reality like she had never come across before. She had tried really hard to believe because she had instinctively trusted Dumbledore, as did most people. But then she had baulked because it was all too surreal. The clothes, the surroundings, the wands...and the magic!

Her questions had been succinct and she had held it together remarkably well until Albus had told her unequivocally what they all were and that magic was real.

She had even used alternate identities for them because it was easier for her to think about those make believe characters than the strange reality of the people before her. He had been quite amused at her mental pictures of Albus-he could vaguely remember Geppetto as being associated with some Muggle fantasy from his early childhood-and Minerva. He thought that the Wicked Witch of the West was from another Muggle childhood story.

And the Black Prince...well, he was not entirely sure about that but he thought he may have been some medieval prince-why black, he had no idea. Of course, it was obvious why she had given him that sobriquet. Everything about him was black, including his voice, apparently.

And he had found it amusing that she had labelled him with a title that was very close to his own nickname for himself in school-‘The Half Blood Prince'. ‘Prince', because his mother's maiden name was Prince, and ‘Half Blood', because he was a half blood. Not that he had ever bandied that piece of information around freely...after all, he had been a Slytherin and the vast majority of his housemates had been purebloods.

Severus knew he had nothing going for him in the looks department but he had been told by more than one person that his voice was...well, compelling. He knew he had the ability to keep a class in his thrall but he had always put that down to their fear of him rather than the mesmerising affects of his voice.

Severus was far from being vain-indeed he had little to be vain about-but it was nice to know that he had one feature that could not be sneered at.

Severus shook himself out of this uncharacteristic personal introspection and focused his thoughts back on the Muggle. He had been surprised when she had lost it...when she had started to rant about kidnapping and drugs. Well, technically, he supposed, she had been kidnapped. If Lupin had not wished to play the chivalric knight...but no, he had really had no choice. Severus too, would not have liked his conscience to be plagued by what her fate would have been had she been left to the brutal ministrations of Death Eaters who would have been furious over the escape of  their original quarry.

And then she had tried to attack him when he had prevented her from flinging herself off the bed and more magic had been used, even though nothing had been cast directly upon her this time. He had not thought that she would become hysterical; she had kept it together up until then. But Severus supposed everyone had a limit.

He looked back towards the bed. Both women were talking in low tones. He could see them but not hear anything as the Muffliato charm was still in place. As he watched, a tray of tea things shimmered into existence atop the bedside cabinet.

Tonks, in the manner of one young female to another, even those who had been total strangers minutes before, was becoming intimately acquainted and was reaching across to tame Erin's hair with her hands. That hair was nearly the exact shade of red as another redhead he had once known. It was also the same length as she had always worn hers. Severus' hands clenched. He would not think about her. A difficult task at the best of times when a constant reminder of her was under the Hogwart's roof for most of the year.

He usually had a decent break from that reminder; the summer holidays were long enough for him to steel himself for the next onslaught of painful memories. But not this year...

Severus watched as Tonks prepared two cups of tea, directing the operation with her wand, and Erin watch the performance in open mouthed astonishment. She was not screaming hysterically, so Nymphadora was obviously handling things well-up to this stage at any rate.

He looked away to find Minerva holding a full cup of tea out to him. He gave his usual curt nod of thanks, an action Minerva was far too used to, to be offended. All of Severus' actions were curt to the point of rudeness.

He had just taken hold of the handle when a searing pain engulfed his senses. It had originated in his left forearm and was so intense, his hand spasmed violently and the cup fell from his suddenly, nerveless fingers. The cup smashed on the flagstones but the hot tea splashed over Severus' robes.

He managed not to grab at his left arm but he could not stop the hiss of pain that escaped him. Luckily, the hot liquid in his lap was an excellent cover for the fact that he was in pain.

Severus had sprung out of his chair, as had Minerva. Because she had been sitting right next to Severus, her robes, unfortunately, had not entirely escaped the cascade of hot liquid. She was not scalded however, and her wand had dealt with the spill before it had fully penetrated through to her skin.

Severus had not been so lucky, having taken the brunt of the spill, so his exclamation of pain encompassed the burn in his arm as well as the burn on his leg. The one centred over his left forearm was definitely the more agonising of the two. His fingers twitched involuntarily but he hid the spasm amongst the full folds of his robes while Minerva cast a drying and cooling charm on him. His burn cream would take care of the residual sting.

Severus knew that both Minerva and Moody were aware that his Dark Mark had burned, but it had become habit for him to always attempt to hide the pain associated with a summons. Sometimes he was more successful than others. Today, finesse had definitely been conspicuous by its absence.

Severus eyes had sought Dumbledore immediately he had gained his feet and Albus was watching him with concern, fully aware that Severus had been summoned, and rather viciously too. The Dark Lord was not happy.

"Problem Snape?" Moody was looking maliciously smug. Even though he was fully aware that Albus had absolutely no doubts about Severus's true allegiance, the old Auror had never been able to let go of his malignant hatred of Severus.

He had attended too many grizzly scenes of torture and mayhem after Death Eaters had trampled through, leaving death and destruction in their wake. Moody had never encountered Severus at any of these horrific scenes, but the fact that the younger man bore the Dark Mark put him forever beyond redemption in Moody's book.

Severus knew that the only thing that would convince Moody that he was indeed Albus Dumbledore's man, would be if he laid down his own life to save another member of the Order of the Phoenix. Even then, he would probably say that Snape had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had not meant to take the curse that had been directed at another.

Severus could not care less what Moody thought of him. The only person he had to answer to was Dumbledore and he knew that that wise old man trusted him and he would not do anything to destroy that trust. Moody and his suspicions be damned.

Severus needed to answer the call but before he could leave, a long, drawn out cry of pain drew everyone's attention. Potter was thrashing about wildly, becoming entangled in the covers.

Severus made a supreme effort to lock his own pain away as he hurried to Harry's side with the other three hurrying in his wake. Tonks had also hurried over and as if the crowd of wizards was not bad enough, Potter's Muggle friend was right amongst them, her appalled gave fixed on the distressed boy.

Severus was shocked to see that Harry had clawed bloody wounds into his face, mostly around the scar on his forehead and he grasped the boy's hands and held them securely. That did not stop the violent thrashing and Moody made himself useful by clamping his arms around Harry's legs through the covers. With those movements curtailed so thoroughly, Harry twisted his head to the side so that he could rub the livid scar against the pillow.

His respirations were rapid and choppy again, just as they had been back at Privet Drive. Suddenly, the boy's back arched and he released an agonised scream. At the same time, the pain in Severus' forearm intensified so much he could no longer keep it locked away.

"Albus!" he hissed through clenched teeth and Albus immediately understood his need. He took over from Severus and held Harry's wrists so that he could not harm himself further.

"Go, Severus. This will not stop until you are there."

Severus had now grasped his own forearm, squeezing the abused flesh under his palm in an attempt to ease the pain. For several heartbeats, he stood and stared at the distressed boy.

"GO!" commanded Dumbledore, and with a swirl of his robes, Severus spun about and ran to the fireplace in Poppy's office. No-one heard him call his destination, he said it so quietly but they heard the roar of the floo as he was consumed by the emerald, green flames. He left Dumbledore with the problem of Harry, and the old wizard knew there was only one thing he could do. He could not bear to see the child suffer any more this night-did not want to see him suffer any more, ever.

Stupefy! For the second time in approximately six hours, Harry was stunned so that he was unaware of the pain currently assailing his senses.

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Erin's hands had covered her mouth as she watched Harry yell and                                     writhe about in apparent agony. She could hardly bear to watch as the two fully grown men tried to forcibly still his frenzied movements.

But when the oldest wizard (Erin could still not really believe that she was giving any credence to the claims that there really were such things as wizards)...her Geppetto had pointed his wand at Harry and spoken a commanding word and Harry had instantly become as still as if he was dead, Erin had been unable to hold back a cry of shocked distress.

She pushed her way past Tonks towards the head of the bed where she put out a hand to smooth Harry's sweaty fringe away from his forehead. The scratches that surrounded the angry looking, jagged scar on his forehead were still very red and a few of them oozed little spots of blood. He felt very hot to the touch and though he was now unconscious, his face was still set in lines of pain.

Erin looked up at Dumbledore, her green eyes glittering angrily. "What did you do to him?"

Dumbledore looked weary and when he spoke, his voice was every bit as unhappy as it was exhausted. "I did the only thing I could think to do to ease the child's suffering."

"But why was he suffering? He had been sleeping peacefully since I woke up...here...in this...this place. In this alternate universe!"

"It is the same universe as the one you have always known, Erin. Magic-real magic-is just an aspect of it you have not come across before. I imagine what you are feeling would be equivalent to travelling to a foreign country where the culture is entirely different to the one you are used to.

"In fact, if you would only open your mind a little, I do believe you will be able to get used to us very quickly. We are, after all, as human as you are. We are, all of us here, British and we are all people who are fighting to bring about peace and stability in our world, and ultimately, yours. We just have an ability that Muggles do not."

At Erin's questioning look, Albus elaborated. "We call non-magical folk, Muggles." Tonks had obviously not gotten this far in her explanations.

Erin's look said exactly what she thought of the sobriquet, ‘Muggle' but at the moment, she was more worried about Harry than learning everything there was to know about the Wizarding World tonight. The question she longed to ask about ‘the fight to bring about peace' would also have to wait. But she did wonder whom they were they fighting?

"Where can I get a bowl of water and a face washer?" was the question she asked.  "I want to sponge Harry's face. He's dripping wet."

Instead of answering, Minerva waved her wand and a metal bowl filled with lukewarm water appeared on the bedside cabinet, a folded washcloth and towel and a container of soap beside it. Erin's jaw started to drop but she caught herself and she snapped her lips together. OK. One more example of the amazing things these people could do.

She looked down at Harry where she was still stroking his hair. He looked so young, so vulnerable. This poor boy seemed to be at the centre of some kind of conspiracy. No, maybe conspiracy was too strong a word, but he was definitely looked upon very differently in this world than he was in the world the Dursley's occupied. These people seemed to be very protective of Harry.

Yes, these people definitely seemed to care for Harry. Well, it was hard to say what the wizard called Alastor Moody felt. He did not seem to show any emotion. No, she had that wrong. She remembered that he had seemed quite disparaging of Prince Severus.

Ah, yes, Prince Severus. He alone seemed to have been less than enamoured with Harry, and yet, he was the one whom she had seen at Privet Drive, apparently expending a great deal of effort to stabilize Harry so that he could be taken away from Privet Drive without his injuries being exacerbated.

Erin's thoughts were whirling as she sponged the perspiration from Harry's face and neck. The older three wizards, leaving her to carry on her ministrations, had moved wearily back to the sumptuous armchairs that were totally out of place in this austere hospital ward. Earlier, when she had mentioned this observation to Tonks, she had laughed and said that they were Dumbledore's signature chairs. He conjured them wherever he needed a seat if there was nothing remotely comfortable to sit on in the immediate vicinity.

Erin sighed. This really was way too much for her to get her head around. She came from a world where children were fascinated by simple magic. It held them enthralled, but they quickly learned that it was all trickery and illusions.

Of course, there were much more sophisticated types of illusion in the world of show business that held adult audiences enthralled also. Truly amazing displays on grand scales that really did seem to defy the laws of physics. She had never really been a fan of "magic". It wasn't something she really found entertaining, but in a distant corner of her mind, she did wonder how these amazing illusions were executed.

But the things she had seen tonight weren't grand illusions. Everything she had seen happen had appeared relatively simple and had been brought about with matter-of-fact simplicity-no grand standing, no showing off.  Certainly, nothing so grand as the Statue of Liberty disappearing, that was for sure.

But she had felt the effects of some of the magic flying around tonight. And she had seen clearly, without the aid of camera angles or mirrors, the magic performed by these people-these witches and wizards.

Her hands, at the present moment were wringing out a washcloth over a bowl of water that had just appeared out of nowhere when Professor McGonagall had waved her wand. She had drunk a cup of tea that had appeared out of nowhere. She had been made mute, she had been paralysed and both conditions had been easily reversed with a wave of a wand. And she had seen chairs move across the room without any visible means of locomotion-they had just...moved. Seemingly, of their own volition.

And of course, she had awoken in this previously unknown hospital ward which was supposedly in a castle. And, on top of that, she had awoken in a pair of pyjamas that she would never, under normal circumstances, be seen dead in!

As Erin continued to sponge Harry's hot face with the lukewarm water, she replayed some of Tonks' words from earlier. She had told Erin that there was thought to be around ten thousand witches and wizards in Britain, but that there were many other non-human beings with varying degrees of magic.

She had said that a magical baby could be born of two magical parents, one magical and one non-magical parent, or, in rarer circumstances, of two non-magical parents. Tonks had two magical parents but her father was the son of two Muggles. Erin ran her hand through Harry's damp hair again. Apparently, he had a similar parentage to Tonks. His father was a pureblood wizard but his mother, Petunia Dursley's sister was born of two Muggle parents.

Erin's brow furrowed. The way Tonks had spoken, Erin had deduced that one's heredity was a very big deal in the magical world.

She looked over to the bed opposite Harry's where the only person she had not heard anything from since she had awoken, was still sleeping soundly, and where Tonks had returned when it was apparent that Erin was taking charge of Harry. Tonks was running her fingers through the man's greying hair. It was obvious that she cared deeply for him. What was his name again...something like Renee...no...Remus, that was it. Witches and wizards obviously went in for unusual names-all those she had met tonight had unusual names, except perhaps Alastor, and of course, Harry. There was Albus (she thought Geppetto suited him better), Minerva, Severus, Remus and Nymphadora...perhaps the most unusual of all.

Erin liked Nymphadora Tonks. The young woman had a wonderful sense of humour and she knew how to tell a story and hold her audience mesmerized. Perhaps it was because Tonks had looked so thoroughly modern and normal compared to the others, Erin had found herself believing what she had to say. What reason, after all, did she have for making up such an amazing tale?

She had not made a huge production out of any of it. She had started by telling Erin that as unbelievable as everything she had been told may seem, it was all true. Everyone in this hospital wing was a wizard or a witch, including Harry.

She had explained about how young people who were imbued with magic had to be trained so that they could control their powers, and as with non-magical people, their abilities were highly individual. A child born of two magical parents could end up not having very much inherent power at all, whilst a child born of two non-magical parents, in many cases, could be quite powerful.

Her Geppetto, it turned out was an enormously powerful wizard, the likes of whom had not been seen since the days of Merlin himself. Albus Dumbledore was not only powerful, he was a good and fair man. Tonks had then told her in less than her usual happy and confident tone that there was one other who perhaps matched Dumbledore in power but he was certainly not good and no-one liked to think about, let alone talk about him.

The Wicked Witch of the West was a powerful witch and, according to Tonks, was very definitely not wicked even if she appeared a little severe at times. In Tonks' opinion, Professor McGonagall was a wonderful teacher, having taught Tonks, herself.

Alastor Moody was amazingly magical and was the Magical World's equivalent of a Law Enforcement Officer.

Professor Snape was also a teacher here at Hogwarts. That was the extent of Tonks' explanation about the Black Prince, but Erin felt that there was much more to Severus Snape that was not being spoken of.

In the middle of this dissertation, the tray of tea had appeared out of thin air and Tonks had directed the preparation of two cups with her wand. By the time this demonstration had reached its conclusion and Erin was sipping a delicious beverage, just the way she liked it, she had reluctantly come to the inescapable conclusion that she was not dreaming. She had felt the hot cup heating the palms of her hands and burning the inside of her mouth. She had felt Tonks' hands fixing her hair and just to be absolutely certain, she had subjected herself to the time honoured method of determining whether one is dreaming or not; she had pinched herself-hard.

It had hurt.

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Harry felt a lot cooler now that Erin had been sponging his face and neck for the last fifteen minutes. Strangely, the water had not changed temperature...it was exactly the same as it had been when she had first put her hands in the bowl. More magic!

Erin had unbuttoned Harry's pyjama top, (his pyjamas were exactly the same as hers) and had sponged his chest and stomach. She had been upset to see just how skinny the young boy was; she could clearly see the outline of every rib. Harry's emaciation was not the worst of it though. The healing wounds marring his pale flesh had taken her aback for more than one reason...one, was the sheer number of scars on his torso, and two, was the fact that the most recent injuries were already healed, though the scars were still pink and tender.

Erin sighed. The most unpalatable thing about this whole episode with Harry was that it appeared that it was his own family who had attacked him, and not anyone from this magical world.

To get past her distress, Erin briskly began to remove Harry's damp pyjama top-only to find that she couldn't easily roll him to free his arms. He might be skinny, but he was more than she could move at the present moment. His frenetic writhing earlier had twisted the loose sleeves around his arms and it was unpleasantly clammy with perspiration. She looked across at Tonks.

"Um...Tonks, can you give me a hand please." Tonks stood and dropped a kiss on Remus's forehead before leaving his side.

"Can you help me remove this damp shirt. He needs a fresh one."

"Let's make this easy," said Tonks, and she pulled out her wand. She waved it over Harry once and said, Evaporo! and a second, slightly different movement was accompanied by the word, Fresco!

"OK," said Tonks. "He's fresh and dry and now..." A third, more complicated movement of Tonks's wand had Harry rising a foot off the mattress so that he hovered in mid-air.

Erin's mouth dropped open. Harry was just floating there, with no visible means of support. She turned her shocked face to Tonks. "How?" she said weakly.

Tonks grinned cheekily. "Magic," she whispered. 

Erin wasted several more seconds goggling, but when Tonks gave her a quick poke and said, "Well, straighten his top. I can't hold him here all night," Erin quickly complied. When Tonks had lowered Harry back onto the bed, Erin refastened his buttons and pulled the covers up. At least she knew now that he was clean and dry.

She wished the scratches on his face could be healed but when she asked Tonks if she could do it, the young witch told her that she was not very good at healing charms and that it was best to wait for someone who was better qualified.

"We all have areas where we excel and others where we suck," added Tonks matter-of-factly.

"What do you excel at?" asked Erin as the two young women returned to Erin's bed. Erin climbed up and reclined back against the pillows, suddenly very tired. Tonks sat on the side. Erin's head was beginning to ache and she thought it was because her ordinary, Muggle brain cells could not assimilate the surreal new knowledge that had been forced on her this night.

But when Tonks screwed up her pretty face in an expression of intense concentration, Erin felt her eyes widening again as Tonks's  pink hair turned a lovely shade of turquoise and her nicely shaped nose shortened considerably and turned up alarmingly at the end so that it resembled a pig's snout. It was obvious that the nights shocks weren't over by a long shot.

"This is my special talent," said Tonks in a snuffly voice that became her normal tones again when she turned her nose back to it's original shape and size. "I'm what is called a Metamorphmagus. It means I can change my appearance at will, without the use of a spell or a potion. It's very handy in my line of work."

Erin remembered that Tonks had told her that she was a wizarding law-enforcement person-an Auror-like Mr Moody.

"That's er...quite amazing, Tonks." Erin said weakly. "Is being a meta...a what you said, a prerequisite of the job?'

Tonks shook her turquoise head. "If it was, there would be very few Aurors. I am a rarity in the wizarding world. Metamorphmagi are born, not made."

Erin tried to look suitably impressed but it was all she could do to suppress a yawn behind her hand. Tonks must have noticed though, because she hopped off the bed and patted Erin on the knee.

"Why don't you lie down and try to sleep. Things might seem a little less fantastical by the bright light of day."

Erin looked down the room at the out-of-place chintz armchairs and their occupants. Professor McGonagall was leaning on one hand and had her eyes closed. Her witches hat was slightly askew on her head. Mr Moody's real eye was also closed but that horrible, electric blue atrocity was still whizzing around, though it didn't seem to be disturbing the battle-scarred wizard from his slumber. Only Albus Dumbledore was awake. He was sitting with his finger-tips pressed together against his set lips and he was staring at Harry. But Erin was sure he wasn't really seeing the sleeping boy. The old man looked exhausted...and very, very worried.

Erin was sure that there was a great deal going on that she had not been told about. Where, for instance, had Prince Severus gone in such a hurry? And why had he appeared to be in immense pain?

Erin finally allowed her exhaustion to overwhelm her. She slid down under the covers and closed her eyes, trying very hard to suppress the dizzying sensation that the amazing revelations of the night were generating. She also had to make a concerted effort not to think about the things she had not been told-and it appeared that they were numerous.

Erin thought she had succeeded. She felt herself drifting very nicely; she was comfortable and warm under the covers; this bed was not too dissimilar from her own at her parent's house in Privet Drive.

Privet Drive! Erin's eyes flew open and she sprang up in the bed. My God, how could she have forgotten? Mad-eye Moody had said that there was nothing left at Privet Drive. How could that be? Her parent's house. Harry's house. How did houses just disappear unless they were demolished...blown up?

She had to ask Mr Moody. Erin threw back the covers but before she could get out of the bed, she fell back with a cry as a blinding bright burst of light materialized in the doorway. With watering eyes, she saw the laser bright mass of light streak down the ward. It stopped near Geppetto, who had hurriedly risen to his feet. A sonorous voice resonated through the stone room.

Erin stared, eyes watering and mesmerized, at the dazzling light as the words pierced her brain.

"Petunia and Dudley Dursley have been killed in an automobile accident! Vernon Dursley badly injured in hospital."

The sun-bright light slowly faded to nothingness.

Severus stumbled out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office, and with a hiss of disgust at his own weakness, he actually fell to his knees. However, a quick glance around showed him that no one was in the beautiful room to comment on his less than graceful antics.

So, with no one but Fawkes the phoenix to bear witness, Severus allowed himself to voice the pain he felt as he hauled himself to his feet. That less than human bastard whom he pretended to serve had definitely surpassed himself tonight. Barely anyone had escaped his wrath. Three had actually paid for their mistakes with their lives.

Severus retrieved his wand from his robes and cast his Patronus. He gazed at his beautiful doe for several painful seconds before imbuing it with the message he wished to relay, and then sent her on her way to find Albus Dumbledore. Then, with a sigh of relief, he eased himself into one of Albus's ridiculously comfortable chairs, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Ridiculous yes, but exceedingly welcome at the moment.

So Potter's relations were dead...well, the two that were necessary to help protect the boy from the Dark Lord anyway. The other waste of considerable space-Vernon Dursley-was still alive, but not by much by all accounts. Severus hoped he succumbed to his injuries. It would only be fitting after the treatment he had meted out on the boy.

Vernon Dursley would never get his hands on Harry Potter again though, even if he did survive. At the very least, the animal should be imprisoned for his crimes against Potter, but fortunately for Dursley, the Muggle authorities would never hear of his crimes because it was highly doubtful that the boy would ever have anything to do with the Muggle world again. And so, the fat Muggle would escape justice.

That is unless some vindictive wizard who shall remain nameless, but has seen the Dursley's handy work first hand, decides to get even on the boy's behalf.

Severus snorted inelegantly. The apocalypse must be nigh, or else the Dark Lord's punishment had affected him in more ways than just the physical. He was sitting here, contemplating taking revenge for crimes committed against the Boy Who Lived...the bane of his life...Harry Bloody Potter. 

Severus rubbed a shaking hand over his face. His stubble adorned jaw felt rough against his palm and he grimaced. He was sure that his already less than attractive face was showing the ravages of the last six or so odd hours. He was thirty-six years old and at the moment, his body felt at least one hundred and six. He was getting far too old to tolerate the treatment the Dark Lord dished out.

Even though he had already medicated himself when he had Apparated back to the Shrieking Shack, Severus knew he needed a stronger dose of muscle relaxant and he also needed a hot, soothing, herbal bath.

Upon the Dark Lord's rebirth, he and Dumbledore had devised what they had decided was the quickest and the most efficient way for Severus to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side when he was summoned.

Dumbledore had constructed new anti-intrusion wards around the Shrieking Shack and the fireplace had been repaired to enable Severus to floo from Dumbledore's office-the only point of floo ingress and egress to and from the castle-and then to Apparate to whence he had been summoned.

Severus had also fashioned a secret hiding place within the brickwork of the fireplace in which he had hidden a cache of potions so that he could dose himself if needs be at the earliest possible convenience. He had taken this step so that if he was subjected to torture as he had been tonight, he would be in a reasonable condition to relate the happenings of the meeting to Albus, and also preserve a little of his dignity.

He did not like to appear anything less than in complete control. Tonight, the application of the Cruciatus Curse had been extreme. And he had escaped relatively lightly compared to some.

The Dark Lord was livid because of Potter's escape.

Green flames flared high and Albus stepped from the magically enlarged fireplace. He, as Severus had done earlier in the evening, had flooed from Poppy's office.

Severus thought about sitting up straight but quickly decided against it. If he tried to move, he knew he would not be able to stifle the groan of pain that would involuntarily escape him. Why he was bothering to try and hide his weakness he did not know, because, despite his best efforts to always appear strong, Albus had often seem him in even worse condition than this and he always seemed to know when he was suffering.

Albus looked searchingly at his less than hale potion's master. His bright blue eyes filled with regret but his mouth firmed into an angry line before he spoke a single word.

"Bad?"

Severus took a deep breath and then nodded his head without lifting it from where it rested against the padded chintz back of the chair.

Dumbledore strode to the cabinet beside Fawkes's perch. The phoenix watched with bright eyed curiosity as his companion poured two tumblers of Ogden's finest. Severus also watched as his friend and mentor crooned to the phoenix and scratched his head. He spoke, but the words were unintelligible to Severus's ears, but Fawkes seemed to understand.

Albus held one of the tumblers up and the bird tipped his head to the side. Severus sat up a little straighter and managed to stifle most of the groan that rose to his lips. After a few seconds he saw a thick, silvery tear slide from the phoenix's bright eye and fall with a tiny plop into the glass of whisky. It was quickly followed by another.

Dumbledore stroked the beautiful, scarlet head again and then walked around his desk to pass the glass to Severus. ‘It is fortuitous that Fawkes is here tonight. This will hopefully take care of the worst of it.'

Severus took the tumbler in a shaking hand and stared at the contents. He knew just how lucky he was that the phoenix had given him two of his precious tears. Fawkes did not give his tears freely and as the bird had already healed the worst of the injuries around Potter's face earlier, this was even more unexpected.

Severus raised the tumbler in a salute to the amazing bird and then threw the whisky to the back of his throat. Within seconds, the aches and tremors still assailing him disappeared entirely. He no longer felt as though every muscle in his body had been shredded, one fibre from the other, and that each one of those fibres was working independently of the others. His thirty-six year old body felt as though it had just rested for a solid eight hours on the most comfortable bed in the world.

Severus shut his eyes and sighed his relief. "Thank you Fawkes."

Fawkes dipped his magnificent head but then began to preen the feathers on his golden breast, so Severus was unsure whether the bird had acknowledged him or not. He knew the bird was intelligent, but he wasn't sure whether he responded to any but Albus's voice.

Severus looked across at Albus who was sipping his unadulterated whisky, his tired, world weary eyes gazing, unseeingly across the room. Albus had not had the benefit of Fawke's healing tears and the old man looked even older than his one hundred and fifteen odd years.

Severus knew the old man felt as if the weight of the wizarding world was on his shoulders. Usually he bore the burden stoically, but tonight, with Potter's mistreatment coming to light in the most brutal way possible and with the Dark Lord's henchmen invading the boy's summer residence, the weight was more than one man-even one as great and powerful as Albus Dumbledore-should have to bear. And he, Severus was about to add to that weight.

"Potter's aunt and cousin are dead."

Dumbledore sighed and placed his empty glass on his desk with exaggerated precision. ‘I know. Kingsley contacted us." He pierced Severus with those blue eyes. "Was it an accident, or did the protection fail, enabling Voldemort to get to the Dursleys?"

"It was an accident, a stupid Muggle car accident. It would appear that Potter's uncle is not as adept at controlling a car as he is at beating up children."

Dumbledore banged his clenched fist down on the desk. "But how did he know, Severus? How did Voldemort know so quickly that the wards were now useless?"

"A lucky happenstance. He has known for a very long time that Potter lives in Surrey. He had conducted some research, Muggle style. He knew, from those who went to Hogwarts with Lily..." at a look from Albus, he inserted darkly, ‘...not me Albus! He learned that her maiden name was ‘Evans'. And a certain blonde Slytherin boy who shall remain nameless, had overheard Potter talking about his Aunt Petunia, and wasted no time in relaying this information to his father.

"It was a simple matter for him to break into the appropriate Muggle government buildings and check their records. He found out that Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley, and the rest as they say, is history."

Dumbledore had leapt up and was pacing in front of the fireplace. "But even with all the relevant information, he would not have been able to touch Petunia or her son."

Severus sighed. "He knew the address, Albus. He even knew the car registration. He has been keeping watch on the area for months. Your wards were extraordinary. They encompassed the whole of Privet Drive, and its nearest environs, so anyone who wished Potter harm could not get any closer to the Dursley abode than several streets away. And of course, the blood protection kept Potter safe even when he was further afield.

"It just so happened that last night, an extra vigilant servant-Yaxley, to be precise-was hovering near by, apparently at his own discretion, and he caught sight of the Dursley's car about a mile from their home. Yaxley has an excellent memory for numbers and so realised whose car it was immediately. He followed them on his broom and witnessed the accident that killed Potter's aunt and cousin. He was able to get word to the Dark Lord within minutes and he ordered the attack on Potter's home."

Albus dropped heavily back into his chair. He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "Lily's protection would not, of course, protect Petunia and Dudley from anything but wizards wishing to harm them. If Harry had been in that car, he too could have been killed."

Severus had actually thought of that himself. Living in the Muggle world was much more fraught with danger than living amongst wizards. Car accidents, electrocutions, aircraft and train crashes. Not to mention the illnesses that seemed to pass wizardkind by.

Most modern technology had passed wizards by and there was no doubt that it was much safer in the sheltered enclave that was the wizarding world. The worst danger that wizards faced today was an attack by Lord Voldemort and his underlings. Of course, Muggles were in just as much danger as their magical counterparts in that respect. But no-one was as actively sought by the Dark Lord as Harry Potter. Well, the old man sitting across from Severus  at the moment was very high on his list as well.

"How much of Privet Drive has been destroyed, Severus...how many killed?"

"He was not happy to find the boy gone. Moody was right, I'm afraid. There is nothing left. As for casualties..." Severus shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. At least sixteen houses were destroyed. I only got this information in dribs and drabs from other Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was not in the mood for story telling, Albus.

"As soon as he saw me, he cast the Cruciatus Curse on me," said Severus bitterly. "I suppose that he thought it would loosen my tongue. He thought I would know why Potter was not at his relative's home...it took a long time for me to convince him that I had no idea what machinations you had in the works."

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were somehow dimmed with the regret he felt. He sighed deeply. "All of those poor people dead. Dead because Tom Riddle cannot control his temper." He looked at Severus and the regret in his eyes deepened. "I am sorry Severus. I cannot ask you to keep going back to that..."

"Do not tell me to stop, Albus. The information I bring back is essential, you know it is. Tonight was an aberration. My skills are too important to the Dark Lord for him to do away with me. He is usually much more in control than he was tonight. He thought he had Potter...he was mistaken.

"I am to report to him as soon as I have found out what your plans for Potter are."

Dumbledore nodded tiredly. "Between us, we will come up with a credible story...and also the reason why I did not confide in you."

"How is Potter?"

"I had to stun him again. Just after you left. None better than you knows how angry Voldemort was. I was afraid that Harry would injure himself again, he was so distressed."

Severus stared into the empty grate. It seemed that the boy's connection to the Dark Lord had intensified since his attempted possession of Potter at the Ministry in June. Dumbledore had told him about the episode. And since that time, the Dark Lord's temper was much more volatile. Potter was in for a rough time unless someone could help him learn to Occlude.

That meant either himself or Dumbledore. And they all knew just how successful his attempts had been.

But what was your main goal, Severus. Helping the boy...or humiliating him?

Severus squirmed a little in his seat. He had certainly not made it easy. But then again, Potter was so guileless, he doubted that the boy would ever be adept at Occlumency. But unless something could be done, Potter was in for a rough trot until he could ‘fulfil his destiny'.

"Our young Muggle friend made herself useful by making Harry more comfortable."

Severus looked at his boss, his brow furrowed. "More comfortable. He was unconscious, in a comfortable bed. What precisely could a Muggle do to make him more comfortable?"

Albus raised his eyebrows; Severus could see he had a slight smirk on his face. It was quite apparent even through the abundant facial hair. "Miss Hanson soothed young Harry's fevered brow, Severus. It seems he's found himself another mother figure."

"And just precisely how many mother figures does Potter need, Albus?" asked Severus in a distinctly nettled voice.

"After the ministrations of his aunt, I would say that Molly Weasley and Erin are just the tip of the iceberg. Minerva tries to hide her own tendency to fuss behind the strict schoolmarm façade.

‘But truly, Severus, as Harry was denied the real deal, and the one who should have taken over the position fell down badly on the job, I do not think it hurts that our young Gryffindor has some women who are quite happy to mother him.

"I would think that Molly Weasley has enough children of her own to mother," said Severus in a carefully disinterested voice, "and the Muggle might consider herself a bit young to be a mother to Potter."

Albus smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I do not think that age comes into it, Severus. Nor does fecundity. These two women see a young boy in need-a very engaging young boy..." Severus snorted but Albus ignored him. "...and they want to care for him. So does Minerva but she is restricted by her responsibility to so many other children as well as Harry."

Severus bit his tongue in an effort not to make anymore scathing comments about Potter and all his potential mothers. Both wizards sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Albus stood. "I think a good dose of bed might do you good, Severus. Your patients will be fine until daylight. They are all sleeping soundly now."

"Now? Were the night's revelations too much for the Muggle to get her tiny little mind around?"

Albus raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Severus, you know very well that our world is an awful lot to get ones head around when you have been brought up to believe that magic is illusion."

Severus snorted, but he said no more. He couldn't really, not when he remembered his own mother's story and how difficult it had been for her husband to get his head around the fact that there was such a thing as real magic. The Dursleys were not the only Muggles out there who hated magic.

But at least he had had his mother to counter his father's negativity. Potter had had no-one. Could he really begrudge the boy the attentions of a beautiful young Muggle female. Suddenly, the last eight hours and all the people who had inhabited them were too much for him to get his mind around. He was even too tired to walk down to the dungeons.

Albus held out a beautifully etched silver box to him and Severus took a pinch of the Floo powder from within.

"I will see you at a more respectable hour...say nine-thirty, in the hospital wing."

"What about you Albus? I hope you are going to bed."

"I'll rest in the hospital wing. I'm expecting Kingsley within short order anyway, so I don't want to settle into a deep sleep. Besides, I haven't been subjected to several rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. Also my boy, the older one gets, the less sleep one needs. Now go, I don't want to see you for at least six hours."

"You will call me if I'm needed..."

Albus held up a reassuring hand. "Rest assured, if your patients need you, I will call."

Severus nodded and threw down the Floo powder before calling out his dungeon destination.

8888

Erin lay curled on her side, eyes still shut, but her mind whirling with frantic activity. She was frightened to open her eyes because of what she would see. All was quiet at the moment, but she knew that all the characters from the nights fantasy were still here. Well, most of them, anyway. She wasn't sure whether Prince Severus was back from his mysterious assignment. But she was sure that Geppetto, and the Wick...no, that was Professor McGonagall, and that nightmarish vision, Mr Moody and the unconscious Remus, and Nymphadora, who liked to be called Tonks, were all still here.

But the strange people from this alternative universe weren't the only ones here, were they? The reason that she was here at all, was unconscious in the bed opposite. If she had not gone on a rescue mission, she would not be here now, she would be curled up in her own bed in her parent's house on Privet Drive.

Yes, that's where she would be, because it could not possibly be true what Mr Moody had said last night. It could not possibly be true that there was nothing left of Privet Drive. She refused to believe it.

But instead of being curled up in her own bed she was here in a strange bed in a strange dormitory (hospital ward, she had been told) in a building she had also been told was a castle. And all because she had been worried about her young neighbour and had once again rushed in-fool that she was-where angels feared to tread.

Well, she had always known she wasn't an angel.

No, apparently, she was a Muggle. As were the Dursleys and everyone else in the world that she knew. Except, for the Dursley's nephew...

Harry Potter. After the shock of finding out that there was such a thing as magic it had been even more of a shock finding out that the sad young boy she had only met a few days before, was actually a wizard. Compared to the people she had met last night, he just did not seem very wizardy. He just seemed to be a normal teenage boy.

Erin huffed a silent, decidedly unamused laugh. ‘Shock' was such a bland word to describe the emotional roller-coaster she had been on since waking in this strange, strange world.

Perhaps cataclysmic better described the upheaval that had wrenched her from her safe, comfortable suburban life.  Her kind nature and penchant for interference had sent her on a rescue mission and she had ended up in the Twilight Zone.

Erin had worried about Harry after they had separated yesterday afternoon. Petunia Dursley had proven to her at lunch that she had no love for her nephew and Vernon Dursley was such an unpleasant looking man, Erin just knew that he was abusing Harry...the bruise on his face, the guarded movements, as if his ribs were broken.

Erin hadn't meant it to happen, but after she had gotten home and worried over the events of the afternoon, she realised that she had probably caused a lot of trouble for Harry. He had looked positively sick when his uncle had driven up and seen them together.

And then later on when she had seen the Dursleys leaving without Harry, she had wondered whether she should go and check on him. But she had had no idea how long the Dursleys would be away, and so she had tamped down her impulsiveness and turned her television on instead. Her mother would have been proud.

But when she had seen the very suspicious character crossing the lawn of Number Four, she had had to act. And here she was. But she had been right to be worried about Harry. The glimpse of the boy's battered form that she had seen before she had lost consciousness had confirmed all of her fears.

Of course, at the time, the desperate thoughts racing through her mind told her that the intruder-the one who had been leaning over him when she had crept through the doorway-had been the one who had attacked Harry.

After waking up here, she had been disabused of the idea that the intruder-Prince Severus to be precise-had attacked Harry; he had in fact been assisting him. Erin turned over in the bed and surreptitiously opened her eyes. She was looking across the centre aisle running the length of the ward, directly at Harry where he lay curled up under the covers, his shock of jet black hair all that could be seen.

 As she had left him on his back after she had sponged him down, Erin assumed that Geppetto had lifted the spell that had rendered Harry unconscious. She couldn't imagine anyone positioning the boy so that he was curled up like a cat; so he must have moved by himself, in his sleep.

As Erin watched, Harry turned over and burrowed even further under the covers, as though he was trying to hide from the world. Now all that she could see from her recumbent position was the hair that stuck up untidily at the back of his head.

Erin felt her heart lurch. It was that untidy hair as much as it was the world weary sadness in those beautiful green eyes that drew her to Harry in a way she had never experienced before. She had been teaching adolescents for six years but in all that time, she had never felt for another child what she felt for Harry.

If Harry was a much younger child, she could almost imagine that she was becoming clucky.

This poor boy had been despised by his relatives, but for the life of her, Erin could not even begin to imagine how Petunia Dursley could have held her nephew in such contempt. Had it been because Harry was not an ordinary boy. Had Petunia and her husband and son despised Harry because he was a wizard? But why should that have been a problem? After all, Petunia's sister had been a witch and surely Petunia had loved her sister. Or had the Dursleys just objected to having to bring up a child who was not their own?

Erin sighed. She knew that she should feel upset about the deaths of Petunia and Dudley. After all, Dudley had only been Harry's age. But it was hard to feel sad because they had been such obnoxious people. If she felt sad about anything, it was because they could have had a very different life if only they could have extended their hearts to encompass Harry within their family circle.

Erin knew, she just knew that Harry would be upset about his aunt and cousin's deaths. They had mistreated him for what had probably been most of his life. They had actually told all the neighbours that the boy was a dangerous delinquent. But he had kept silent about his mistreatment at their hands. Erin could not see how Harry's school teachers had not picked up on his abuse. And she was pretty sure that he must have been abused, mentally and physically from when he had first come to live with the Dursleys.

Was it because he was just not prepared to stoop to their level, or was there another reason why Harry could not expose his relatives? Because all he would have had to do was go to the authorities and show his injuries...and Erin was sure that Harry had more injuries than just the bruising she had seen on his face when she had first met him. He had been guarded with more than just his emotions, he had also been guarded in his movements.

Erin's green eyes narrowed with uncharacteristic hardness. If Vernon Dursley survived his injuries, he had better not step into her path or he might just not survive the wrath of Cyclone Erin!

A movement near the door had Erin looking around. Geppetto, Mr Moody and a tall black man had just entered the hospital ward. They all looked particularly grim. Her movement must have given her away because Geppetto looked directly at her and changed his direction. The two other men followed.

Erin sat up, running her hand over her neckline and fumbling to do up the top button of her pyjama top which had come undone during the night. Geppetto smiled at her, but Erin noticed the smile did not quite reach his bright blue eyes. Erin was amazed that a person as old as Geppetto seemed to still have such a bright penetrating gaze.

"Miss Hanson, my dear, how are you today?"

Erin offered a weak smile in return. "Confused...very confused, Professor. And if what Mr Moody said last night is true, very upset." She turned to Moody and tried not to cringe as his normal, muddy brown eye focused on her and that...that other thing whizzed around and around in his head, stopping for seconds at a time and then continuing it's whirlwind activity. "Is it true that I no longer have a home, Mr Moody?"

"I'm afraid so, Missy," answered Moody in his gravely tones. "The whole street is gone."

Erin stared at him and to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she made no attempt to stem their flow. "But why?" she whispered in a choked voice. "How? How can a whole street just not be there any more?"

"Erin..." began Dumbledore in a voice filled of regret, but Erin interrupted him.

"It's not as if we live in downtown Baghdad, is it? We don't have people running around blowing up whole neighbourhoods in this country." She was aware of another figure approaching her bed, this one dressed once again in unrelenting, flowing black robes-Prince Severus. Her tear filled eyes snapped to his austere face but then she looked away just as quickly. For some reason, she did not want to see him sneer at her distress.

"That was my parent's house," she whispered to no-one in particular. "What am I going to tell them?" And then her hands covered her mouth and the tears flowed even faster.

"Pumpkin!" she choked.

All four men looked at her as if she was mad. It was Geppetto who said, "Pumpkin, my dear? What or who is Pumpkin?"

"My cat." Erin looked beseechingly at Dumbledore. "She's only a year old. She can't be dead." She turned to look at each wizard in turn. "Can't someone go and check for me? You're all wizards, aren't you? I know you can get there quickly."

"Erin, it is quite dangerous to go into the neighbourhood at all, at the moment, as I am sure you can imagine," said Dumbledore placatingly. "It will still be very chaotic there, what with the Muggle authorities everywhere and our own Ministry representatives tidying up loose ends and making sure the Muggles authorities there are safe."

Erin's brow creased and she stilled, her eyes fixed on Dumbledore. She sniffed inelegantly and scrubbed at her cheeks, annoyed all of a sudden that she had succumbed to a crying jag. She didn't usually cry.

Dumbledore produced a clean, folded, white handkerchief from somewhere within his oyster grey, crushed velvet robes and handed it to her. Erin dried her eyes and cheeks and blew her nose. She should have been embarrassed to be seen at less than her best, by four men, but a very disturbing thought had occurred to her and her emotional outburst and subsequent blotchy appearance were suddenly rendered unimportant.

"What exactly happened to Privet Drive, Professor?" asked Erin. Her eyes, though still red and swollen, were suddenly flinty. "Unless war has broken out in Surrey, I fail to see how a whole street can disappear."

Dumbledore turned and looked at Harry, who still appeared to be fast asleep. The old wizard pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm. Erin watched, as wide eyed as she had been the night before as Dumbledore wielded his wand. She was unsure of what he had done however.

"I do not wish for Harry to overhear any of this. I am sure you understand, Erin. He has been traumatised enough for the present moment." Erin bit her lip. Of course she didn't want Harry to hear, but she had to have some answers.

"I have cast a spell that will stop anyone but the five of us hearing what is being discussed."

Erin nodded. Magic could certainly be very handy. But if her suspicions were correct, it seemed that it could also be very destructive. "What happened at Privet Drive was caused by a wizard, wasn't it?"

To their credit, none of the men looked away. Geppetto, Mr Moody and the black gentleman she did not know looked very grim but the Black Prince, who always looked grim, had the audacity to roll his eyes. Erin bristled.

"Did I just say something incredibly stupid, Mr Snape?"

"Perhaps not ‘incredibly' stupid, Miss Hanson," said Severus in his most disdainful voice, "but why would you imagine that any of us would be interested in the happenings on an insignificant Muggle street if a wizard was not the perpetrator?"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice was as stern as Erin had ever heard it but she was not going to let the Prince's statement go unchallenged. Her cheeks had gone red and she leaned forward slightly to make sure Prince Severus was listening carefully.

"As I have already been informed that wizards are human beings just as Muggles..." here, Erin drew quotation marks in the air with her fingers, ‘...are, perhaps I thought that at the very least there might have been a little compassion for the Muggle's who were killed there."

Severus's eyes had narrowed during this diatribe but Erin had not finished.

"And Privet Drive was not too insignificant that it was not the home of one of your own." She flung her arm out and pointed in Harry's direction, "One of your own, I might add, who was fortuitously rescued before the street was, apparently annihilated." Erin's voice had risen with every word so that by the end, as well as having angry tears in her eyes, she was yelling directly at Professor Severus Snape. She was pleased to see two stripes of angry colour high on each of his chiselled cheek bones.

Geppetto was looking sternly at his Potions Master and the tall black man had walked away from the bed. Mr Moody though, for some reason was looking highly entertained. Erin wasn't sure what that was all about but she was too angry to worry about it.

"As were you, Madam," bit out Severus.

Erin grabbed two handfuls of blanket. She wanted to scream, but instead, she hissed, "Yes sir, as was I. And you think that my being rescued when at least twenty others perished makes me feel any better. Well, for your information, IT DOES NOT. You see, I have, in abundance, what we human beings call compassion.

Now it was Severus's turn to make sure that Erin was listening carefully. He placed his fisted hands on the end of her bed and leaned forward over his knuckles.

"What must it be like to have the time to indulge in compassion, Miss Hanson. Unfortunately, we inhuman wizards are too busy trying to stem the tide of destruction and murder being perpetrated by possibly the most evil wizard ever to have lived..."

"Severus, that will do!" boomed a very angry Dumbledore. Erin blinked. Tonks had told her that Geppetto was very powerful, and now, Erin had proof of the statement. There seemed to be a palpable aura surrounding the old man. And obviously, when Geppetto got angry, other wizards listened because, though it was obvious that the Black Prince still had things to say, he clamped his lips together in a thin line and straightened to his full height and crossed his arms.

"It is an unfortunate penchant of yours Severus, to speak without weighing the consequences."

"Do not speak to me as if I am a child, Albus." Severus's tones were deadly.

"Then stop playing a game of one-upmanship." Albus turned to Erin who was looking back and forth between the two men. "I am sorry, Erin. There were many ways that we could have led into the story of exactly what happened to your home. Severus has pre-empted them all. But unfortunately, what he said is true.

"Your home and the rest of Privet Drive have been razed to the ground because a wizard, whose name was Tom Riddle but who prefers the self styled title of Lord Voldemort, was thwarted last night in his attempts to kidnap Harry and as a result, his temper got the better of him and nothing short of total annihilation would appease him."

Erin planted her elbows on her blanket covered thighs and buried her face in her hands. She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips as though trying to erase the picture Dumbledore had conjured-that of an angry, fairytale wizard standing larger than life, with the wind whipping his long hair and beard around his head, and his black robes around his skeletally thin form, and pointing his wand at the roiling black clouds so that he could harness the force of the storm and direct it at the houses of Privet Drive.

"He lost his temper," Erin said in a dead voice, "and so he destroyed a whole street."

"He and his minions, yes," said Albus. ‘This world of ours is far from perfect, Erin. We too have terrible people whose sole purpose in life is to try to subjugate the rest of the world and make themselves all powerful."

Erin's sad, horrified eyes had been focused solely on Albus, but suddenly they moved past him and focused on something over his shoulder. Dumbledore turned, as did Severus and Moody.

Harry had awakened and was pulling himself up-painfully by the looks of things-to lean against the bed head. He was rubbing his already severely mussed hair with one hand and scrubbing at his face with the other.

Before she realised she had done it, Erin had pushed the covers back and hopped out of bed. As she padded across the intervening space, ignoring the adult wizards and standing on the cuffs of her overlong pyjama pants which she vainly tried to hoist up, all she could think was that this Tom Riddle...this Lord Whatever, had tried to kidnap Harry, but had failed.

Why had he tried to kidnap Harry? Why was Harry Potter, the boy who was reviled by his family in the Muggle world, important enough to be kidnapped in the Wizarding world? Also important enough that he was obviously watched carefully by the witches and wizards in this room.

The boy's awakening seemed to have sent out a silent signal. Minerva appeared in the doorway of Poppy's office where she had obviously been sleeping because her grey hair had been pulled back in a tight, untidy bun and she was sans hat; Tonks, whose hair was long and blonde today bounced through the doorway leading to the landing and Remus too, stirred in his bed. Tonks's face broke into a radiant smile and she headed straight for Remus whilst all the other's made a bee-line for Harry.

Harry opened his eyes and saw many blurry figures descending upon him. His initial reaction was panic and he pressed himself back harder against the metal bars of the bed head until they were digging painfully into his shoulder blades. Then he made out the copious amounts of white hair surrounding the head of the tallest person and the black hair and robes of a person who could only be Professor Snape. He also heard the unmistakable stumping of Mad-eye Mood's wooden leg on the stone floor. He relaxed.

The first person to reach him, he did not recognise until she spoke, and then his eyes widened in shock.

"Harry, how do you feel?" Erin asked, taking his hand where it lay on the covers.

"Err...Erin!' he stammered, looking wildly around at the wizards and witch standing around his bed. "You're here, a...at Hogwarts..."

"Eloquent, as always, Potter," sneered Snape.

Harry flushed. Typical Snape. The git saves him from Privet drive, heals his injuries and then insults him in front of all and sundry.

But it wasn't Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall who took Snape to task for insulting Harry the minute he had opened his eyes. Erin, still holding onto his hand, spun around and confronted Prince Severus.

"You would have to be one of the most unpleasant men, Wizard or Muggle, that I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Harry's mouth fell open. He exerted a bit of pressure on Erin's hand, trying to convey the silent message that it was not a good idea to poke a sleeping tiger. Even with Dumbledore, McGonagall and Moody there, he was still worried for Erin's safety. But Erin was oblivious, she had something to say, and she was going to say it.

"If your idea of witty repartee is verbally lashing a fifteen year old boy who has just woken up after being seriously traumatized and then spelled unconscious, then you are definitely not as clever as you are nasty."

Harry couldn't really see properly (where the hell were his glasses anyway?) but he could just imagine Snape's lips setting in a thin line and his cold, black eyes narrowing with malice. He had to head Snape off  before he could launch an attack. Erin didn't need to be subjected to the Hogwart's Potions Master's particular brand of invective.

But the unmistakably, deep tones of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice saved Harry the bother. "I do believe the young lady has yet to see your sensitive side, Severus."

Sensitive Side! Yeah, right. Harry joined in with the titters of laughter that broke out on all sides. Snape looked absolutely livid. The git didn't have a funny bone.

 Severus cast Erin a look that would have scorched if she had even deigned to look at him. But she had resumed her sickening fawning over the brat, so he turned those obsidian orbs on his fellow Order members.

Unfortunately, none of them were in the least bit cowed. In fact, they still looked highly amused-at his expense. Severus didn't like being the butt of other's humour.

"I believe that is ‘touché', Severus," said Dumbledore, and Severus wanted to hex the twinkle right out of those annoyingly ageless eyes. A man in his one hundred and fifteenth odd year of life had no right having such bright, intelligent eyes. They should be faded by cataracts and clouded by confusion at the very least.

Dumbledore was never intimidated by Severus, and Minerva always gave as good as she got; so knowing he was wasting his time, the Order's spy turned his fulminating glare on Kingsley, the man responsible for his present feelings of discomposure. Discomposure was not a feeling that Severus had a lot of experience with. He was usually the one doing the discomposing.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a formidable wizard and his addition to the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix had been of immeasurable use. Being a senior Auror put him in a unique position to gather very necessary information. The man also had amazing insights into the criminal mind.

Because of his spying duties, Severus probably collaborated more with Kingsley than any of the other members, except for Dumbledore. As a result of this close association, Severus had developed a grudging respect for the man and that had slowly morphed into the closest approximation to friendship that Severus enjoyed with anyone other than Dumbledore and Minerva.

The Potions Master, Healer, Death Eater and spy had been very reserved the whole of his life. He did not make friends easily or willingly. It took a very persistent person indeed to ignore Severus Snape's unapproachable glares, aloofness, snide comments and determined unfriendliness.

Kingsley was eight years older than Severus and had finished Hogwarts before Severus had started. They had never come across each other before and as it had been Mad-Eye Moody who had indoctrinated Kingsley into the Order, that had been more than enough reason for Severus to initially treat the man with sneering contempt.

Severus incorrectly assumed that Kingsley would have inherited all of Moody's prejudices and dislikes. He assumed that the ex-Auror would have  primed his young associate with tales of Severus Snape's perfidious past.

And though Kingsley had listened politely to Mad-Eye's ranting and taken it all on board, the younger man had weighed up Snape's murky past and Moody's passionate hatred of all things ever associated with Voldemort, against Dumbledore's complete trust and liking of Severus Snape.

Kingsley had a great deal of respect for Albus Dumbledore, as he did for Moody, but he knew Moody's vision was often blinkered and the man was practically incapable of changing his mind, despite proof showing that his initial impressions were no longer totally valid.

Kingsley always made up his own mind and though he was in no doubt that Severus was a highly unpleasant individual, it was not too difficult for him to see beneath the sneering façade and aloof bearing.

 So the death glare now being directed at him did little but make Kingsley smile and raise a mocking eyebrow. He moved closer to his associate and cocked his head to the side. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, my friend," he said sotto voce.

"To my knowledge," bit out Severus, with little attempt to keep his pithy response to a whisper, "...there are no potions that require the addition of flies, Shacklebolt, so your puerile observations are neither needed nor appreciated."

Severus spun around to leave and found himself face to face with Remus Lupin, who had one hand firmly grasped by Tonks. The girl looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Remus looked more than a little sheepish if the high colour across his cheekbones was any indication.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry had caught site of Remus and pushed himself further upright, a bright smile of greeting adorning his face.

Remus returned the smile, his feelings for the boy evident in his soft brown eyes as he patted Harry's leg through the blanket. "I'm pleased to say you look a great deal better than when I saw you last night, Harry."

"I feel a lot better," said Harry earnestly.

Remus turned his attention to Severus who was standing directly in front of him. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Severus launched into the verbal tirade he had felt the overwhelming need to let loose since Kingsley's tongue-in-cheek comment. Lupin was the perfect target.

"Did I say you could get out of bed, Lupin?" hissed Severus in his most dangerous voice.

If Remus was taken aback by the hostile tone, he hid it well. He smiled his friendly smile and moved back a small step, as he and Severus were practically nose to nose. "I'm perfectly fine Severus. Thanks to your expertise."

"You are never fine, Lupin," bit out Severus nastily. "Fine is  an adjective that I have extreme difficulty connecting with your flea-bitten hide. And I will decide whether your injuries are sufficiently healed for you to be up and about. Now get back to bed."

"Severus, there is no n..."

"Are you a healer, Lupin?" interrupted Severus. Remus's smile slipped slightly and he turned to Albus for support.

"I would advise a hasty retreat, my boy," said Dumbledore. "Get it over with."

Tonks shot a narrow-eyed glare at Snape as she dragged on Remus's arm, and ever one to maintain the peace, he allowed himself to be dragged. He did not allow any offence to show; he was used to Severus's acerbic tongue and he had heard the ‘flea-bitten hide' insult so many times, it was almost a term of endearment.

Harry was also glaring at Snape. Erin could feel the tension in the boy's hand and arm because she still had hold of his hand. She and Professor McGonagall had been talking quietly with Harry while the Black Prince had been remonstrating with Mr Shacklebolt.

Erin had been keeping a surreptitious eye on the tall dark streak of misery she had dubbed ‘The Black Prince'. She had not caught what Mr Shacklebolt had whispered to the man, but she had heard his ill-tempered reply.

She hadn't realised that she had been watching the dour Potions teacher so assiduously as he raked his angry, cold eyes over Geppetto, Mr Moody and Mr Shacklebolt before stalking off after Tonks and her man, until Harry slowly worked his hand out of her grasp.

Professor McGonagall (who was nothing like the Wicked Witch of the West) had been quietly relieved to see Harry so much better and she had been chatting quietly with him and Erin, obviously making a tentative effort to become better acquainted with the young Muggle woman. Now, uncharacteristically, she patted Harry's shoulder.

"Stay strong Harry," she said in a strangely tight whisper, and then, before she walked away, she bent her head to Erin's ear and spoke so quietly, Harry had no hope of hearing.

 An intense look passed between the two women that made Harry practically squirm with curiosity. It looked as if the ‘Keep Harry in the Dark', club was in session again and a new member had been recruited.

Minerva joined her colleagues where they were huddled together at the end of the bed conducting a conversation that was just as quiet and intense as the words that Professor McGonagall had just spoken to Erin.

Harry scowled darkly but Erin didn't immediately notice as she turned back to her young friend. "You gave me such a fright last night, Harry." She perched sideways on the edge of the bed, one leg bent on the cover and the other foot dangling above the floor. Looking directly into Harry's face, she noticed the scowl and thinking that he was remembering the violent assault committed by his uncle, she leaned forward and enclosed Harry within the circle of her arms.

"Oh, Harry, why didn't you tell me that you were being abused in that house? That man should be in prison." And then, realising that she should leave the subject of Vernon Dursley alone, Erin shut up abruptly.

Harry, embarrassed, was squirming to be released and Erin was pleased for the opportunity to steer away from the subject of the Dursleys. "Sorry," she grimaced comically. "I forgot sixteen year old boys have a problem with physical contact by anyone other than a love interest."

She watched, quietly amused as spectacular colour suffused the whole of Harry's face. "I don't have a love interest," he mumbled, looking studiously at his knees. Cho Chang flashed through his mind but she was gone as quickly as she had come-and without the accompanying stomach lurch. He felt nothing other than the vaguest of regrets. That regret hardly registered on Harry's emotional barometer. He and Cho would never have worked because the ghost of Cedric would have always been there between them.

There was also the fact that the Ravenclaw Seeker was too girly-girl for his taste. He had hated Madam Puddifoots and absolutely loathed the cherubs and confetti. If that was what all girls expected their boyfriends to appreciate, then Harry was sure he would never keep a girl interested past a first date. Cherubs and confetti didn't seem to fit in the same framework as Quidditch. Girls were very confusing.

Harry privately thought that it would be a long time before he had another first date. It wouldn't be safe for a girl to get close to him...not with what the future held for him.

He felt a vague regret that he had probably already scaled the dizzying  heights and plummeted to the suffocating depths of the emotional rollercoaster that accompanied a teenage romance. Nothing much registered after the devastation he felt at the loss of Sirius and so the end of his relationship with Cho caused hardly a ripple in his apathetic demeanour.  He felt like he had been living in a fugue since that night at the Ministry of Magic.

He had been aware enough to be immensely relieved and grateful that his friends had survived the horrors of that night. But knowing that they were OK was all the excuse he needed to relegate them all to the back of his mind.

For the first time, letters from his friends had not been anticipated. If they had  written, they would have expected answers and that would have taken too much effort. But of course they had written. The appearances of Ron's newsy missives and Hermione's pages of psychobabble had not excited him like they had done in the past.

But despite his determined indifference, Harry had been vaguely amused by Ron's efforts, aided as he had been by little asides from Ginny that she had obviously insisted her brother record. The end result had been a hotchpotch of Ron's and Ginny's tangled thoughts and observations.

Harry could just imagine how Ron would have had steam erupting from his ears by the time Ginny had left him to write his final salutation. He had finished the letter by telling Harry that Ginny was a right pain in the arse and that he had sent her away with a flea in her ear and told her to write her own bloody letter.

And so she had. Harry had ended up getting a couple of letters from Ginny during the short time he had been at the Dursleys, and unlike Ron and Hermione, she hadn't tiptoed around Harry's bruised sensibilities. She wrote about what was happening at the Burrow at any given time and Harry had not been able to hold back a chuckle or two.

Ginny Weasley was a no-nonsense girl with a brilliant sense of humour. She had written, in exquisite detail how Ron had reacted to her insisting that he add her little comments to his letter. Harry had had a vivid mental image of exactly what had taken place, her descriptions were so perfect.

She had not been afraid to include several anecdotes about things that Sirius had said or done when they had been at Grimmauld place before Harry had joined them last summer. She had segued into these so effortlessly, Harry had finished reading the amusing anecdotes before he thought to feel miserable again. It was obvious that Ginny had been really fond of Sirius.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had been game enough to mention Sirius; Hermione had just wanted to talk about feelings and the fact that she and Ron were there for him if and when he needed to talk.

Ron wrote about Quidditch and Fred and George's shop and the fact that ‘Weasley Wizard Wheezes' was doing a booming trade and that his genius brothers would probably be millionaires by the time they were twenty-five, and that Percy was still the biggest prat under the sun because he still hadn't admitted he was in the wrong about (Ron's words) ‘well...you know?'

Yeah, Harry knew all right. But he wished he didn't.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. He could tell that Erin was looking at him but even though she was so close, her face was still blurry.

"Can you see my glasses anywhere?" asked Harry, turning towards the bedside cabinet. Erin saw they weren't on the top so she opened the drawer. It was empty.

"They're not here Harry." Harry clucked his tongue in annoyance and threw himself back against his pillows.

"I suppose if I get out of bed, Snape will have a go at me like he did Professor Lupin."

"I haven't known your Professor Snape very long, but I would say that would definitely be on the cards."

"He's not my Professor Snape," said Harry with no small amount of feeling.

Erin raised her eyebrows and Harry continued. "Snape hates me," he said baldly but in a lowered voice so that the people at the end of the bed couldn't hear.

"But he came to your aid," countered Erin, confused.

"Only because Dumbledore made him, I bet." And then almost to himself, he added, "I wonder how Dumbledore knew I was in trouble? The wards wouldn't have been disturbed then because it wasn't wizards who were attacking me."

"I thought Professor Snape was attacking you," observed Erin softly. "I was just about to crown him with my hockey stick and then...nothing. Nothing until I woke up here in this alternate universe and my closed little world tilted on it's axis, never to be righted again."

"I don't really know what happened either. It's all like a dream. Professor Snape being there to help me...and then Remus appeared. I didn't see you until you were unconscious." Harry looked at her with those beautiful green eyes. He looked a little embarrassed. "I think Remus must have stunned you to stop you attacking Snape."

Harry watched the blurry image of Erin draw herself up in indignation. "He couldn't have just grabbed my arm or something," she said angrily. "I was under the impression that Remus was nothing short of wonderful. According to Tonks anyway."

"He is," assured Harry. "He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you. If there had been any other way of stopping you braining Snape, he would have done it."

Erin let out a disgruntled ‘hmmph' but Harry continued thoughtfully. "But then the Death Eaters came and Snape stunned me and I didn't know anything more until I woke up here." He raised his eyes to Erin again. "Remus must have Apparated back here with you."

"OK, Harry, you seem to have forgotten you're talking to a person who, until a few hours ago had no idea that witches and wizards really existed. First of all, what are Death Eaters? And second, what do you mean by Apparated?"

"Perhaps we should leave the lesson till a later time Harry. Breakfasts have arrived and I know Professor Snape would like to examine you afterwards." Neither Harry nor Erin had realised that the congregation at the end of the bed had broken up and that Dumbledore had glided to Erin's side.

Snape too, appeared there. He had obviously finished harassing Remus. "On the contrary, Headmaster. I would like to check Potter out before he eats."

Harry scowled darkly. He was, amazingly, absolutely starving and he had to put up with the stomach churning experience of Snape touching him before he could eat. Chances were he wouldn't be able to hold anything down after that.

"I feel fine," said Harry in what he clearly hoped was a decisive voice. "You fixed me up last night."

"Perhaps you should let Professor Snape do a final check Harry." It was Erin who had spoken and Harry looked at her in surprise. Severus looked down his nose at the young woman before him.

If he was surprised by her support, he didn't let it show. He clearly antagonised the woman, just as she antagonised him and the last thing he would have expected was for her to assist him in any way. Not that he needed help to deal with the brat.

"You were in terrible shape last night Harry, and I can hardly believe looking at you now, the number of injuries that you had. No-one would ever know what had happened to you thanks to your Professor, and if he wants to check you out, just to be on the safe side, you should let him."

"Thank you, Miss Hanson, for your assistance, but I assure you, Potter does not have a choice in this matter. Though it is not a task I relish, I will examine him before he eats."

Erin drew herself up but even rigid with indignation, the top of her head still only reached Severus's chin. "So sorry to have butted in, oh great and powerful physician, but I would have thought a co-operative patient would be an advantage." And with a last furious glare, she stalked off to her bed where Minerva had just placed a tray of food on her table.

Severus stood without moving following this diatribe. He did not understand why this woman insisted on arguing with him. He certainly had no desire to converse with her, even though he knew she was no competition for his poisoned tongue . But where was his intimidation factor when he needed it? In the normal course of events, attractive young women were usually too frightened to even look at him, let alone to talk.

A movement on the bed had his head snapping around. Potter was levering himself further upright.

"Lie down!" he barked and he pulled out his wand and directed the screen that had surrounded Lupin's bed to fly across the aisle and settle around Harry's bed.

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Erin ate her delicious breakfast of eggs and mushrooms perched on the side of her bed. She kept on casting anxious glances towards the other side of the room where the screen blocked her view of Harry and his tormentor.

Tonks was sitting in a chair between Erin and Lupin's beds and Lupin was also sitting on the side of his bed, facing Erin. She studied him surreptitiously between the glances she cast towards Harry's bed. Remus Lupin seemed like a very likable man. He was quite cute too, in a dishevelled, careworn way. Erin could see quite a few scars adorning his thin face, but she thought that they might have been part of what attracted Tonks. Remus had a definite look of a man who needed mothering, though he certainly didn't solicit attention. He seemed to be like Harry in that respect...embarrassed by undue attention. 

At the moment the man looked exhausted, though he had slept the night away. His hair was overlong and greying prematurely, but Erin put him at around the same age as Prince Severus. Quite a number of years older than Tonks though, if she was any judge. But it was obvious the age thing was not a consideration for Tonks, and if Remus was embarrassed by the disparity, he wasn't enough so to consider giving the young witch her marching orders.

Remus had eaten a hearty meal and seemed the better for it but he too kept on shooting covert glances towards the screened bed. Before he had started his meal, he had approached Erin and apologised to her for his having rendered her unconscious the night before.

He had explained that he had arrived at the Dursleys in a panic about Harry and when he had seen a figure poised to strike, he had acted instinctively. It was only after that he realised that she was a woman (not that that would have made a difference in the heat of the moment as she was ready to attack) and that her weapon was a long, strangely shaped stick.

Erin had assured Lupin that she did not bear him any grudges; he had done what he had thought was necessary. But she did point out-with an angry glare across the centre aisle-that  nearly burned twin holes in the screen, that if Remus had let her get on with the task of braining the highly unpleasant teacher of Potions, then they would all have been spared his vicious early morning lambasting.

Remus had offered her a restrained smile in response to this, but Tonks had laughed so uproariously, she had spewed her mouthful of tea halfway across the room in a most unladylike display. Remus had raised an indulgently admonishing eyebrow at her antics.

Tonks explained away her burst of near hysteria as she abashedly followed the path of her tea fountain-spray, drying it with her wand. "This is not just an early morning behaviour, Erin," she chortled. "I think our esteemed Potions Master was in a good mood this morning. He is usually ten times worse than this."

Erin raised her fine eyebrows. "Well, yes...there was also last night, I suppose." She frowned as he spoke in a very soft voice, almost to herself. "If last night and this morning were the norm, I'm surprised that Seismologists don't have more unexplainable activity on their equipment."

Tonks laughed again and when Remus looked confused, she waved her hand about in the air and said, "Muggle thing, Remy. I'll explain later." She drew out her wand and levitated Remus's empty tray into the air before marching towards the office at the end of the ward.

Remus just shook his head at her antics. He pushed his table aside and stood up and stretched. He noticed Erin watching him and smiled at her. "I am not used to staying in bed so long, I'm afraid. My back always gets sore if I remain horizontal for too long. I'm getting old."

"You're not old," disagreed Erin with a warm smile. "You're in your prime."

Remus let out a bark of laughter. "You are very kind, Miss Hanson, but my body thinks it is decades older than my years."

"Tonks doesn't seem to mind," pointed out Erin. "And please call me Erin." Remus looked pleased but he tilted his head slightly in question when Erin's smile took on a teasing edge. "I'm sure your girlfriend has many anecdotes that would disprove your claims of being the possessor of an old body."

Remus's face looked as though it had just been immersed in a can of red paint and Erin laughed-the most natural laugh she had managed since she had stepped into this nightmare.

But she stopped laughing abruptly when she realised what she was doing. She shouldn't be laughing! Her parent's house was gone. Privet Drive was gone. So many people dead, including Harry's aunt and cousin. And what of Pumpkin? She felt so selfish worrying about her cat when so many of her neighbours were dead. Thank God her parents were in Australia! At least she knew where they were-unlike poor Pumpkin.

Cats were resilient though, weren't they? Pumpkin might well be alive. If only she could go and look for her.

Remus noticed Erin's sudden change of mood and he came and sat beside her on the edge of her bed. Tonks had tripped back by now and Remus looked at her significantly and indicated with a slight dip of his head towards Erin's empty tray that she should dispose of it while he talked to Erin.

Tonks looked from Remus to Erin who was studiously studying her hands as she absentmindedly pushed back the cuticles. "I'll just get rid of this tray too, shall I?" and without waiting for a reply, she took off with the tray bobbing along in front of her, her wand held out like a conductor's baton, keeping the tray in the air.

Remus put a hand over Erin's to stop her mangling her cuticles any further.

"I'm very sorry about the loss of your house, Erin," he said consolingly. "And though I apologised for my methods, I'm not sorry that I got you away from Privet drive before you became another terrible statistic."

Erin nodded and threw him a tight little smile. "Well, I  can't say I'm sorry about that either, Remus." She sighed. "I think I might be suffering from a little bit of survivor's guilt. I find it so hard to believe that all of those people are dead because one man lost his temper when his plans went awry."

Erin raised her eyes to Remus's concerned face.  "Why does this Lord Whoever want Harry so badly, Remus? And though he's a gorgeous kid, I don't understand what the big deal about Harry Potter, is?"

Remus sighed and looked across the centre aisle to the screened bed. "That my dear, is a very long story that will take a long time to explain." Remus patted Erin's hand when it looked as if she would try to urge him to tell her Harry's Story now. "I am sure Albus will tell you all that is necessary. The information given to you will be at his discretion I am afraid."

Erin was more than a little peeved with this non-answer, but she shut up when Tonks re-joined them. She had a tall pile of what looked like folded laundry in her hands.

"The house elves have just sent up your cleaned and mended clothes." She smiled brightly and divided the pile, passing Erin what looked like her jeans and her white cotton jumper. She could see a sliver of plum coloured strap from amongst the folds of her jumper and she was sure her bra and knickers were hidden amongst its folds. Remus took possession of a slightly larger pile and with a final pat on Erin's knee, he rose and walked towards the end of the ward.

Tonks indicated the direction in which Remus had gone. "The bathrooms are along that corridor. You can go and shower and change if you like."

Erin jumped off the bed with alacrity. "I would like. Thanks Tonks." and she followed in Remus's footsteps.

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Behind the screen, Harry was levering himself back against the bed head from his fully recumbent position. His mouth was set in a mutinously thin line and he dragged the edges of his pyjama top together and began to button it closed with less than steady fingers.

Severus ignored him as he carefully placed the small crystal he had used as a diagnostic aid back in its drawstring, black velvet bag. He placed it in a pocket within his robes and stowed his wand as well.

"So, can I get up sir?"

"No, Potter. I want you to remain in this bed for the next forty-eight hours..."

"Forty-eight hours!" squawked Harry and Severus quelled the outburst with his basilisk's glare.

"... after that time, I will reassess your condition."

"But I feel fine, Professor," Harry's voice was desperate.

"I will be the judge of how fine you are. You're body has been through a significant trauma. Not to mention your psyche..."

"There's nothing wrong with my psyche!" bit out Harry, leaning forward to bring his face closer to Snape's.

Severus looked back calmly. "I am not suggesting otherwise, Potter. Considering what your uncle has done to you, I have to agree that you are remarkably together." The Potions Master studied Harry's angry face as though he was an insect pinned to a board. "He has always mistreated you, hasn't he?"

Harry stared, totally taken aback by Snape's lack of sneering contempt. He  could not understand why the man wasn't taking every opportunity to debase him now that he had the opportunity, after his, Harry's totally unforgivable foray into Snape's memories earlier this year.

"Um..." Harry cleared his throat and looked down at his bent knees. "Yeah, he's always been violent towards me, but never anything like last night." Harry clenched his fists and his voice was quietly bitter as he continued. "He was like a madman. I thought he was going to kill me. And then I lost consciousness and the next thing I can remember is seeing you."

Severus raised one eyebrow. "One unpleasant experience on top of another, eh, Potter?" Harry's lips quirked but he put up his hand and rubbed it across his mouth and jaw to hide the treacherous movement. His hand encountered a significant growth of stubble.  Harry had not worried about shaving since he had left Hogwarts, and though he usually only shaved his meagre growth about once every three days, his  facial hair had thickened up quite nicely now.

Harry became aware that Snape was watching him feel is bristly jaw. He began to open the screen. "You have toilet and bathroom privileges only Potter, otherwise it is bed rest." Snape pushed the screen back out of the way. "Perhaps you can deal with that poor excuse for a beard while you are there."

Severus turned away but Harry saw a slight smirk twist his lips, and he knew that Snape knew he had made a direct hit. Harry was aware that he had not exactly reached manhood status when it came to facial hair growth. Ron had to shave at least every other day. Still, he hadn't even turned sixteen yet. Ron was five months older than him!

"You are not to be out of bed for more than fifteen minutes, even with bathroom privileges," said Severus, and he began to walk away.

Harry watched his blurry black figure until a thought occurred to him. "Professor," he called out. "Do you know where my glasses are?" Severus halted and turned back. He reached into his robes and pulled out Harry's mangled glasses.

"Lupin found them in your room. They were like that when he picked them up." It was not until Snape handed them over that Harry saw how badly damaged they were. He was appalled. What was he going to do? He needed his glasses! He looked at Snape helplessly.

"Perhaps Professor Dumbledore might be able to do something about them," Snape offered.

"What might I be able to do something about, Professor Snape?"

Severus and Harry turned to find Dumbledore striding towards them with Professor McGonagall by his side. Kingsley and Mad Eye seemed to have disappeared; a fact for which Severus looked remarkably unconcerned.

"Potter's glasses were broken during the attack upon him by his uncle," said Severus.

Albus held out his hand. "May I Harry?"

Harry handed over the twisted wire frames with their broken lenses. The old wizard held them close to his face and studied them minutely, twisting them this way and that.

"Well Harry. I think I can perform some small degree of first aid that will at least enable you to see solid shapes until I organise a visit from Mr Glasson."

"Mr Glasson, Sir?"

"Mr Glasson is Wizarding Britain's equivalent to a Muggle Optometrist, Harry. I do not believe you have ever had your eyes or glasses checked since you became aware that you are a wizard have you?"

"No Sir."

"Well, this is the perfect opportunity." Dumbledore pulled out his own wand and tapped it on one of the broken lenses. Harry saw a momentary flash of intense, white-blue light and heard a slight sizzling noise. "I myself make use of Mr Glasson's services and I believe Professor McGonagall does also."

Dumbledore repeated the process on the other lens and then he set about straightening the fine frame with delicate wand movements that Harry knew he would have been fascinated to see if, in fact, he could see properly.

Harry was handed back a pair of glasses that felt only very slightly lopsided and which had a slight distortion in the right lens that he could put up with for as long as he had to.

"Thank you, sir." Dumbledore smiled and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"Now Harry. I would like you to eat this excellent breakfast. You need to keep your strength up." Dumbledore moved the table up and he and the two Professors moved away to let Harry get on with his meal.

Harry no longer had much of an appetite. Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder had felt oddly heavy, his smile sad and his voice infinitely weary. Something was wrong and Harry felt very uneasy.

He picked up his fork and poked at the hot fluffy scrambled eggs that had been kept under a warming charm. He looked up and saw the gaggle of adults gathered near Madam Pomfrey's office door. Harry saw that Erin was with them and none of the wizards seemed to be perturbed by her presence...except maybe Snape who was standing slightly apart from the intense discussion that was going on.

Snape's arms were crossed inside his wide sleeves and from the back, he was unrelenting black-his long hair, his flowing robes and his booted feet planted slightly apart on the flagstone floor.  The only thing that differentiated him from a sleeping bat was the fact that he was not hanging upside down.

Then Harry noticed that Snape was not looking at Dumbledore who was talking and tugging lightly on his beard-a gesture that Harry had noticed before when Dumbledore was worried-but was staring at Erin.

Harry poked a forkful of the eggs into his mouth and chewed mechanically without tasting anything. As he kept his eyes on the group, Harry saw Erin reach up and rub the side of her neck under the curtain of her golden-red hair where Snape's eyes seemed to be drilling twin holes.

Erin rubbed a bit harder as if trying to ease an irritation. Then suddenly she stilled and a second later, her head snapped to the side and she found herself staring straight into Snape's bold, black eyes. Snape did not have the decency to look away and Harry saw Erin lift her chin in a defiant gesture. She glared at him for another few seconds before turning back to face Dumbledore. Snape too, turned towards Dumbledore; now that he had thoroughly unnerved Erin.

Harry returned his own eyes to his hardly touched breakfast tray. He threw his fork down and it landed with a clatter against the side of his plate. Why was Snape staring at Erin like that? Her presence didn't seem to be bothering any of the others, so why was Snape so put out with her presence?

The sound of his fork hitting the plate had everyone's heads swivelling in his direction, and then, instead of going back to their private discussion, Harry was surprised when Dumbledore strode towards him and the others followed him. They all looked more than a little grim.

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Harry had watched apprehensively as the adults gathered around his bed. Dumbledore was closest to him. "You did not eat very much, Harry," Dumbledore observed.

"I wasn't hungry after all," responded Harry in a tight voice.

Dumbledore nodded and sighed at the same time. ‘No, I suppose you have picked up on the tension." The old wizard drew his wand and banished the tray-back to the kitchen Harry presumed.

Harry knew he shouldn't be surprised. Dumbledore had always had the uncanny knack of knowing exactly what he was thinking and, apparently, what he was feeling.

Harry felt as though he was a prize specimen in a zoo, what with everyone standing around and staring at him with varying degrees of worry and distress visible on their faces-all except Snape of course, who just looked aloof.

"What's going on, sir?" asked Harry in that same tight voice. Dumbledore perched on the edge of the bed, just as Erin had done earlier.

"Harry, do you remember what happened just before Professor Snape removed you from your aunt and uncle's home last night?"

Harry looked from Snape, to Remus, to Erin and then back at Dumbledore. "Professor Lupin turned up and so did Erin. Professor Lupin stunned Erin because she was going to attack Professor Snape."

Erin and Lupin both looked very uncomfortable as Harry related his memories of the past night.

"You don't remember that the Death Eater's breached the wards, Harry?"

‘Yeah, I do," contradicted Harry. ‘That's why Professor Lupin had to get Erin out of there, otherwise the Death Eaters would have gotten her."

"Indeed Harry. Professor Lupin did what he had to do and we are all very glad of it. Miss Hanson was, unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she was there for the right reasons. She came to protect you." Harry thought he saw Snape roll his eyes but he couldn't be sure.

‘Harry, have you not wondered how Voldemort managed to breach the wards...how he managed to by-pass your mother's blood protection?"

Harry was getting really worried now. He had a horrible feeling that he knew where this was going. "Well, yeah. Since I woke up, I have been thinking about it. My aunt and cousin were out of the house, but that can't be why the wards fell because Aunt Petunia has been able to leave the house at any time she wanted to in the past."

"You are quite right, Harry. Even when your aunt wasn't home, number four, Privet Drive was still her home. And as long as you could call home the place where your mother's...'

"I know all this, Professor," interrupted Harry. His tension was rising by the second. "Just get to the point."

"Manners, Potter!

"Mr Potter!"

Snape and McGonagall had spoken together to express their displeasure of Harry's manner but Dumbledore held up his hand to silence them. "I am sorry for the prevarication Harry, but it is never easy to be the bearer of bad news..." Harry's green eyes were wide with apprehension and his face was set and pale.

"The Dursleys were out when the Death Eaters came," said Harry in a constricted voice. "Did they come home while they were still there?"

"No, Harry." Harry scrutinized Dumbledore's sad, lined face. His eyes were devoid of any expression.

"But they're dead, aren't they?" Harry's voice was worryingly matter of fact.

Dumbledore put a gentle hand on Harry's blanket covered knee. "Yes. I'm afraid so, Harry."

The silence that followed this statement pressed in on Harry's ears so thoroughly it seemed to cause a dense fog to form so that it wreathed and swirled around the inside of his skull. He felt like there was a black hole where his brain should be and that it was going to implode at any moment.

Harry knew what Dumbledore had said but he did not know what to do with the information, even whilst it was silently burrowing through to the very centre of his being where it would reside for ever more.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there under the intense scrutiny of six pairs of eyes. He kept his own eyes focused on a patch of blue sky that he could see framed by the small bit of window visible between Tonks and Snape's heads. Dumbledore really had done a great job with his glasses. The window and the patch of sky it framed were as clear and in focus as he had always been used to.

Harry blinked when his eyes began to water in protest against their enforced inactivity. He had done it again. He was now responsible for three more deaths.

"Harry?"

"How come they're dead?" Silence greeted this equally matter-of-fact question and Harry, blinking away the unwanted moisture, dragged his eyes away from the window and focused on the ancient face so close to his own. "They were supposed to be protected by the charm, the same as me."

Dumbledore sighed again. "Harry, your aunt and cousin were not killed by Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. They were killed in an everyday, albeit tragic, automobile accident. Your uncle survived and is in hospital fighting for his life as we speak."

Erin saw a spark of emotion flare to life at the back of Harry's sad, sad eyes. It was breaking her heart to watch him and to know what he must be going through, and all she wanted to do was gather him into her arms. He looked so damn vulnerable-like a little boy lost.

Earlier Dumbledore had told Erin to maintain her distance until the whole sorry story had been told. She had reluctantly agreed but it was really hard. A quick glance to her side at Professor McGonagall showed Erin that the elderly woman was having a similar problem in holding herself aloof from a child in distress.

Harry was having a really hard time assimilating what the headmaster had just told him. A car accident. Could that possibly be true? He became aware that Dumbledore was speaking again and he tried to focus.

"The accident happened at around 8:20 yesterday evening, Harry. Your aunt and cousin were killed immediately and within minutes, the charm I  was able to create to protect you as a result of your mother's sacrifice was nullified and the wards fell, enabling Voldemort to plan the attack to try and seize you. They would never have been able to find you otherwise-not until you reached your majority or stopped residing at your aunt and uncle's home."

Harry was shaking his head in bemusement. But if his aunt and Dudley were only killed a short time before the Death Eaters arrived...

"How did Voldemort find out so quickly that they were dead?" he asked. "I mean, it must have only been-what...half an hour?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry." Dumbledore stood up and walked to the end of the bed where he stood looking out of the same window at the same expanse of blue sky that Harry had found so fascinating minutes earlier. It was not easy to keep on talking, knowing that he was going to add to this poor child's-for he was still a child even if he was nearly sixteen-misery and guilt. And he, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore knew that Harry James Potter would take all that had happened during the last twenty-four hours and add it to an insurmountable mountain of guilt. Dumbledore knew that Harry felt responsible for the horrific events that had occurred over the years...events that had ultimately occurred because a mad man had tried to murder a baby boy, but had instead, created his nemesis.

Erin couldn't help herself. She made to move closer to Harry so that she could comfort him when he found out the rest of the horrific details of his day from hell. It had been an horrific day for her as well, but her sufferings were only a fraction of what this poor boy had lived through-just barely.

A large hand clamped around her forearm before she had taken her first step. Erin stared at it, surprised more than shocked. The view of a half inch of pristine white shirt cuff  bisected by a loose, black sleeve was all she needed to see to tell her who that hand belonged to.

She turned to see Severus ‘Black Prince' Snape staring down his overly large nose at her. She lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows in question. His answer was a single shake of his head.

Severus did not release his grip until he felt her relax. Erin rubbed the spot on her arm where his hand had gripped, as she tuned back into Geppetto's explanation to Harry. Severus clenched his fingers in an attempt to dispel the tingle that had taken up residence in his hand as he too tuned back into Albus's voice.

"It appears that one of Voldemort's Death Eaters-an exceptionally observant man-recognised your uncle's car..." And Dumbledore relayed the story that Severus had told him in the early hours of that morning.

Harry's head was spinning when Professor Dumbledore had finished reciting the unbelievable series of coincidences that had led to the Death Eater attack on Privet Drive. Voldemort hadn't killed his aunt and cousin. But it was their deaths that had enabled the attack.

Harry couldn't honestly say that Aunt Petunia and Dudley were his most favourite people in the world. But he had never wanted them dead...never. Uncle Vernon, was a different proposition. He was a pathetic excuse for a human being and Harry realised that he was very bitter that it was he who had survived the accident. If someone had had to die in that car, why couldn't it have been the man who had, by all reports, nearly killed him, rather than his aunt and cousin.

And then Harry felt quite disgusted with himself that he could be wishing for anyone's death...even Vernon Dursley's. "Well, I suppose I should be thankful he beat me up, huh? Otherwise Professor Snape wouldn't have gotten to me first."

Harry was not surprised that no-one responded; in fact, he hadn't realised that he had spoken aloud. Everything was going around and around in his head and he was starting to feel sick and dizzy. He leaned back against his pillows and began taking deep breaths. He shut his eyes. He wasn't interested in seeing the sympathy on the faces of the adults.

Severus watched the boy struggle to keep the little bit of food he had managed to consume, in his stomach. He had lost every vestige of colour in his face and there was a fine sheen of perspiration coating his parchment coloured skin.

 Everyone else had also become aware of Harry's indisposition. Dumbledore looked at Severus who was striding towards Poppy's office. Within twenty seconds he was back.

"Potter," he said, his voice more gentle than Erin had so far heard it. "Sit up."

Harry opened his eyes, but he didn't dare move. If he did, he knew he would throw up all over himself. He was already enough of a freak show without the added ignominy of having everyone witness him performing a technicolour yawn.

Severus sensed Harry's dilemma. He uncorked the phials of anti-nausea potion and calming draught before pointing his wand into the necks of both phials and then putting the tip of the wand against the area of Harry's abdomen where his stomach was located.

Erin watched the ritual with a furrowed brow. But as her eyes remained fixed on Harry and his skin began to pink up and his breathing settle to a more gentle rhythm, she realised that Prince Severus had administered some medicines without Harry having to actually swallow them. The way Harry  had looked, she was sure that if he had tried to swallow anything, he would have brought it straight back up.

Wizards could do the equivalent of inserting a naso-gastric tube and administering medicine without actually inserting the tube. Erin's grandmother had once been unconscious for several days after suffering a stroke and she had been fed and had been given medication through a naso-gastric tube.

"Are you feeling better, Potter?" asked Severus.

Harry nodded tiredly, his head moving lethargically against the crisp pillow slip. He wished everyone would just disappear and leave him alone. He needed to be alone.

"Harry." Dumbledore was speaking again, and his voice sounded regretful. He couldn't have anything else bad to relate, could he? Surely nothing else had happened.

"Harry, I am afraid there is more bad news."

Harry forced his heavy eyelids partially open. That took some effort. Snape must have given him something to make him dopey. Harry wished it had been a bit stronger because he was still totally aware that Dumbledore had more to tell him...more bad news. He was also aware of Snape and McGonagall, Remus and Tonks...and Erin watching him with sympathetic looks on the faces.

Erin Hanson, his one and only Muggle friend. The woman he had only known for a few days and who seemed to have made his well being a crusade. She was brilliant, she really was. And it was great that she was here.

Harry frowned as several thoughts seemed to clunk into place inside his bruised brain. He knew that Remus had had to get Erin out of Privet Drive because the Death Eaters had arrived.

But it was hours later now...over twelve hours and the Death Eaters would have well and truly cleared out. The Order had known about the attack and the Ministry must have known too. Kingsley and Tonks were Aurors after all. There would have been Order members and Ministry officials all over the place. The Death Eaters couldn't have hung around.

So why hadn't Erin been taken back to Privet Drive and Obliviated? It would have been so easy. The Obliviator Squad cleared Muggle minds of sightings of magical phenomena all the time.

So why was she still here? Harry moved his half mast gaze from Erin to Dumbledore. He had never known a Muggle to actually come to Hogwarts before, though he supposed they must have done. Parents of Muggleborns must have occasionally had to come to the school for one reason or another.

And then Harry's torpid brain conjured a truly horrific thought and he forced himself to sit up and open his eyes properly.

"The Death Eaters didn't just leave when they found me gone, did they, Professor Dumbledore?"

Erin and the witches and wizards around Harry's bed exchanged glances, but the ancient headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry maintained eye contact with the amazing young boy in the bed before him.

"No, Harry. You have deduced well."

Harry licked his dry lips. "So, I presume that they destroyed number four and number six-or else Erin would have been taken back home and Obliviated. How many other houses did they destroy during their rampage and how many people did they kill?"

Erin took one last, pleased look around the beautiful, room she had been assigned by Professor McGonagall for the duration of her stay here at Hogwarts. It was delightfully old fashioned, perhaps Regency or Edwardian. In the midst of all her worries, this was a nice little oasis of pleasure.

The bed was a four poster and was larger than a single but smaller than a traditional double, with a delicately embossed thick brushed cotton quilt of palest green and an old fashioned floral eiderdown folded in half at the foot of the bed. The wooden four poster was a rich, highly polished gold and there was a matching bedside table, dressing table and large, carved wardrobe.

There were matching rugs on either side of the bed, that amazingly did not slip or slide on the polished timber floor. Out of curiosity, Erin tried to lift a corner of one of them, expecting to find it adhered to the floor somehow, and was thus surprised when it lifted easily. But when she stood upon it and tried to slide it on the floor, it would not move.

She shook her head in wonder at exactly what could be accomplished with magic. An elderly aunt of her father's had once slipped on a rug and broken her hip, so Erin knew how dangerous loose rugs could be.

Professor McGonagall (or Minerva as she had asked to be called) had shown Erin some of the sights of Hogwarts on their journey from the hospital wing to this room. They had ascended two flights of stairs to what was, she had been told, the sixth floor.

Erin had felt like a kid in a candy store, with her head turning this way and that as they had moved through corridors and up staircases lined with elaborately carved wooden banisters or  beautiful, smooth marble ones. The castle looked like something out of Robin Hood, though perhaps more richly furnished and fitted.  

The walls were made of stone...but not just ordinary stone. They seemed to shine with a golden glow that changed from the deepest hue of ‘old gold' through to delicate ‘rose' gold. The changing colours seemed to be  dependant on which direction the windows faced and how much light was coming though them at any given time.

The windows themselves were all mullioned and many of them were adorned with stained glass panels that added to the magical glow of the golden stone walls.

There were paintings and statues and suits of armour adorning walls and floors and niches and Minerva had told Erin that there was an inventory somewhere in the Head's office amongst all the official paperwork pertaining to Hogwarts and the property contained therein. But Minerva had doubted that the list was accurate. She doubted if it had been updated once in the last hundred years.

Just as Erin and Minerva had gained the sixth floor, Erin had caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and she had turned her head towards a large painting of a rural scene. Her mouth had fallen open in shock.

The two ponies standing just outside of the shade being cast by a massive oak tree were grazing. They were actually grazing! The branches and leaves of the tree were moving in a slight breeze and the horses were flicking their tails from side to side, as if annoyed by flies. Birds were flitting about in the background and as Erin stood in open-mouthed wonder, one of the horses lifted it's head and stared straight at her. It then gave a soft nicker and turned it's gleaming chestnut rump to her and began to amble towards the hills in the background.

Minerva had walked on a good few yards before she had realised that she had lost her companion. When she had looked back and seen Erin standing transfixed in front of a painting, she had sighed deeply. There were so many things about Hogwarts that were extra-ordinary, it would take days to think of all the things that might shock a Muggle. It would be impossible to prepare her for all eventualities.

Minerva had retraced her steps and taken Erin gently by the arm and guided her on the remainder of the journey to this room. Erin now remembered the revelations Minerva had come out with. Paintings were animated and sound emanated from them. Humans spoke, animals made noises and grass and trees rustled in invisible breezes. They had even passed a painting of a storm-tossed loch and Erin had heard the sound of thunder and drumming rain as well as waves pounding on a rocky shore.

Suits of armour and statues might speak to you as you passed. There were secret passageways hidden behind beautiful old tapestries and in a couple of places within the warren of staircases where there were trick stairs. Minerva had told her not to worry too much about these as she would not need to access those stairways as yet and when time permitted, someone would point them out to her. There was apparently, also a dungeon that extended to great depths below the castle and was accessed by a labyrinth of damp and musty corridors. No-one in living memory had ever plumbed the true extent of the dungeons and it's maze of passages.

But the most startling revelation of all had left Erin reeling. Ghosts! There were actually ghosts within the castle, and not just within the castle, apparently. There were ghosts everywhere. Muggles just could not see them. There were a very few within the Muggle world who could sense ghosts but most other Muggles laughed at them for their foolishness. Erin had been uncomfortably aware that she had been one of the Muggles who pooh-poohed anyone who professed to be able to communicate with the dead.

Oh, she supposed most of them were con-artists, but seemingly, there were those out there who were the genuine article. Erin was very pleased that she had not encountered any ghosts during her journey, though Minerva had assured her that all of the Hogwarts' ghosts were perfectly harmless, and in the case of ‘Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington', a true gentleman.

Erin had been told that the only being from beyond the veil that she had to beware of was a Poltergeist who went by the name of ‘Peeves'. Erin had shuddered. But apparently Peeves was specifically into creating mischief and mayhem, not causing harm.

After being shown into her room, Erin had exclaimed in delight. She had looked around and seen only two paintings adorning the walls-a beautiful thatched cottage set within a true English country garden with a profusion of different flowers and shrubs, and two Regency ladies clad in long white nightdresses who were obviously preparing for bed, because one was brushing the long blonde locks of the other. Both smiled shyly at Erin and she had self consciously smiled back. Studying the expanse of stone walls around her, and feeling rather foolish, Erin had asked if she had to worry about ghosts floating through the walls at any time of the night or day. Minerva had reassured her that was not a problem as all the sleeping quarters within the school were charmed to keep the ghosts, and most especially Peeves out.

Peeves had been known to be able to enter the children's dormitories on the very odd occasion, but he had never breached the charms around staff quarters. The charms were reinforced on a regular basis. Erin was extremely thankful to hear this bit of news. Harmless or not, she was in no hurry to meet any ghosts. Erin had never really given much thought as to whether there were such things as ghosts, but then again, she had never thought that witches and wizards really existed either.

 Erin's quarters included a small alcove complete with a rose velvet covered window seat and matching heavy drapes and floral covered cushions, a pretty floral linen covered chair and a daybed draped with a white rug and pillow-sized, tasselled cushion at one end.

Next to the alcove was a sumptuously appointed bathroom with old fashioned gold fittings and a huge, claw-footed tub. Erin was amazed to see that although there were taps over the bath, there was no plug hole. Surely the baths within Hogwarts were not emptied by bucket carrying servants.

And then she had laughed at herself. Of course there wouldn't be bucket carrying servants. All it would take was a servant-or perhaps the occupant of the room, if he or she was magical-to flick their wand to empty the tub.

Erin had spent five pleasant minutes sniffing the contents of the row of beautiful, different-sized and shaped bottles occupying a shelf above the tub. They were mainly filled with a variety of scented bath oils, but there were a couple that smelled of menthol and camphor and other robust ingredients that would no doubt help to ease tired and cramped muscles.

Minerva had told Erin to rest for an hour as she had had such an exciting and sleep deprived night, and that she would be back to escort her down to lunch. She had warned Erin not to wander around by herself as yet because she would probably get lost.

Erin had not needed telling twice. Her mind was still reeling at the scale of the castle with its many levels and its innumerable staircases and countless corridors. She could imagine herself wandering around until she collapsed and died from lack of food and water and she joined the contingent of ghosts that inhabited the castle-the only Muggle ghost within it's walls.

Erin had lain down on the wonderfully comfortable daybed, but she had not dozed. Her thoughts had strayed back to the hospital wing where she had left a devastated Harry. Geppetto had told him the full extent of the destruction to Privet Drive. He had not had to mention the specific number of deaths; Harry had made that connection himself.

He had been so upset, Prince Severus had insisted that he take some more calming draught. Harry had refused, so once again, the doctor-or healer as he was called in this world-had spelled it directly into his stomach and within minutes, Harry had slumped down in the bed and gone to sleep.

Erin had felt for the ancient Geppetto who had sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had leaned forward and plucked the repaired glasses from Harry's nose before cupping his cheek in his long fingered hand and maintaining the contact for many seconds, his sad eyes focused on the young face which was still set in lines of worry, even while he slept.

Erin remembered dashing tears from her own cheeks, a combination of distress for Harry and distress for her own predicament, which had really only just hit home. Her shock and disbelief over finding herself in this other world-this very strange and hitherto unknown universe-had, until now,  taken over her conscious mind to the exclusion of everything else.

When Geppetto had requested that Minerva take Erin to one of the guest rooms and settle her in, Erin had stated that she wanted to stay with Harry. Prince Severus had told her in that black velvet, rather arrogant voice that there was absolutely no point in her playing the martyr as ‘the boy' would sleep for hours.

Erin had glared at the intimidating looking wizard with dislike. He knew Harry's name. Why did he have to call him ‘the boy' as if saying his name would sully his lips. Oh, she had heard him call Harry ‘Potter' but that had been said with just as much disdain as ‘the boy'. And how dare he intimate that she would martyr herself for just doing the decent thing.

But Geppetto had backed the younger wizard, though in much more diplomatic terms, and Erin had reluctantly left the ward. And mixed in with the worry of Harry, she had begun to wonder just what was going to happen to her and how long it would be before she could contact her parents.

Erin had told Geppetto when they had been speaking earlier that she wanted to contact her parents and let them know that she was safe and well. The old man had assured her that the news had not reached the Muggle newspapers or been broadcast as of yet, because Ministry officials had been able to keep all but the Muggle authorities away and they had been enchanted to keep the news to themselves for the time being. He assured Erin that she would be able to reach her family before the news leaked out.

Erin was brushing her long hair with a beautiful silver backed brush she had found on the dressing table when the knock came. Pleased that her short stint of solitary confinement was over-even though the room was a delightful place to be confined-she pulled the heavy wooden door open.

The smile that she had conjured for Minerva faded away slowly to be replaced by a look of careful neutrality. This blank façade did not hold a candle to the smoothly immobile features of Severus Snape however.

"Oh," said Erin in a voice that matched her expression. "It's you."

Severus raised an eyebrow that clearly said, ‘thank you for stating the obvious.'

But the words that he uttered in that magical voice that managed to send a shiver down her spine even though they was heavily loaded with disdain, were, "As you so succinctly point out, Miss Hanson, it is I."

Erin glared. He was the most insufferable... Cutting off her less than complimentary thoughts, she exited the room and closed the door. She moved carefully so as not to touch the Black Prince. But she needn't have exercised quite as much care, because Severus had stepped back, giving her plenty of room to move without fear of contact. When she would have marched off down the corridor in the direction that she was sure the stairs were in, and with her chin in the air, she was brought up short after only three steps by the voice.

"I know you do not have any possessions that you need worry about at this point in time, Miss Hanson, but it would be pertinent to begin as you mean to go on. At least as long as you are a guest here at Hogwarts."

Erin's shoulders tensed and she halted her forward momentum. She stood still for several seconds trying to gather an air of unconcern about her. After taking a deep, cleansing breath, she turned and sent a questioning look towards her tormentor. She didn't voice a query but her raised eyebrows and slightly tilted head asked the question for her.

What are you talking about?

Severus indicated the stout door she had just closed. "I'm sure Minerva charmed the door to recognise your particular signature. I suggest that you lock your quarters against intrusion by others. I realise there are few people in the castle at the moment as it is the summer holiday, but as I said, ‘begin as you mean to go on'."

Erin felt the colour suffuse her face. Damn! Minerva had told her what she had to do whenever she entered or left the room. Gathering the shreds of her dignity about her but knowing that he could clearly see her embarrassment, she walked back to the door as calmly as she could and placed the palm of her left hand against the panels. She felt a slight tingle against her skin and the door shimmered, as though seen through a heat haze before it fell back into it's sturdy no-nonsense incarnation of an oaken door.

She turned to Severus and inclined her head slightly, doing her best to ignore the slight smirk that had taken up residence on his unattractive face. She was dignity personified when she said, "Thank you for reminding me, Professor Snape."

Severus inclined his head and indicated that she proceed him. She did so, keeping half a step ahead so that she would not have to look at him and the smirk that adorned his smug features.

Erin was pleased to see that she remembered the way to the stairs. But she had to stop there to get directions as she had no idea where they were going to be eating. Severus indicated that she descend the stairs. "Meals are usually served in the Great Hall which is on the ground floor but as we are so few today, we will be eating in a small ante-chamber attached to the Great Hall."

Thinking it would be rude to lapse into silence again, Erin asked, "How many will be dining?"

"Four. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, myself and you."

Erin spared him a quick glance and then concentrated on where she was putting her feet. Her stomach had given a little lurch when she realised just how intimate a party they were for lunch. "Where are Remus and Tonks?" she asked in as disinterested a voice as she could muster.

Severus's tone equalled hers for disinterest but it surpassed her for hauteur. "Nymphadora was on duty this afternoon at the Auror department and Lupin is off doing whatever Lupin does.

"He asked me to convey his regrets that he could not say goodbye personally, but he hopes that you will meet again soon." This whole speech was delivered by rote and with as much warmth as an arctic wind.

"I hope so too," she said defiantly. "I found Remus to be the very definition of affability and solicitousness."

Prince Severus smirked and Erin flushed scarlet. She knew that she had sounded like sanctimonious snob.

"Indubitably," was the snide reply. "The man is an absolute wonder. Why, he is even known to be kind to children and..." here, he gave a significant pause, the reason for which went right over Erin's head, "...wild animals."

Erin seethed. My God, who was Snape to speak so scathingly of a man who was worth ten of him. Severus Snape wouldn't know the meaning of affability or solicitousness. For some reason, this thought made Erin feel even more miserable than she had been since seeing whom her escort to luncheon was.

With an effort, she kept her lips set in a tight line that would have competed with Petunia Dursleys most disapproving moue. And then her misery was compounded again because she was thinking ill of a woman who had just lost her life along with her son.

Really, she felt like succumbing to tears. Her house was gone, she had been spirited to a world totally beyond her ken, her cat was missing, her young friend was suffering terribly, and neighbours that she had passed the time of day with had been murdered.

And her mum and dad were thousands of miles away where they couldn't offer her any comfort. Like a child, Erin wanted her mum to hold her and her dad to make everything right.

She turned her head slightly and bit her lip to stop a sob from escaping. It was stuck in her throat and was threatening to choke her. It needed release, but she would not give in. How the Black Prince would love it if she just sat down on this bottom stair and bawled her eyes out.

And then the Prince was leading her into a side corridor where he opened another sturdy castle door and gestured her through. Dumbledore, still looking exhausted, pushed himself to his feet from where he was sitting at the head of the table that seated eight.

Minerva was hurriedly entering the dining room through another door and after greeting Erin with a smile that he tried to infuse with his usual bonhomie, Dumbledore turned to Minerva, with whom he did not have to try quite so hard.

The witch gave her boss a penetrating stare before taking the seat that Dumbledore had pulled out for her. Erin would have quite happily pulled out her own chair but a black clad arm reached past her and performed the task.

Taking a deep breath, Erin threw a perfunctory smile over her shoulder in Severus's general direction and took her seat next to Minerva. Minerva patted her on the tightly fisted hand that she had placed on the pristine white tablecloth.

"I am sorry that I could not return to escort you to lunch, Erin? Something came up that required my immediate attention, I'm afraid." She threw a glance at the Prince who had just seated himself opposite Minerva. Erin looked down at her empty place.

Great, every time I raise my eyes, I'll be looking straight at him.  

"I hope you found my replacement a little less than his usual acerbic self," continued Minerva, her tongue planted firmly in her cheek. Dumbledore chuckled, but Severus was looking supremely unconcerned as he flicked his table napkin open and placed it on his knee.

"I told you our guest would arrive alive and well for luncheon, Minerva," he said simply, as if it was the norm that he had to make that declaration at all.

Erin ignored him and reached for her own napkin. But before she could shake it open, a meal materialised out of thin air right in front of her. Her chair was propelled backwards away from the table, scraping noisily on the timber floor and accompanied by a scream that was quickly cut off.

Dumbledore had gained his feet and Minerva had turned sideways in her own chair and placed her hand over Erin's where it was clamped tightly around the carved handle of her chair. Her other hand was fixed firmly over her mouth.

If she had a third hand, it would have been placed firmly over her heart, which at the moment, was trying to escape it's moorings inside her chest.

"Erin, are you all right?" asked Minerva solicitously.

"I am so sorry my dear," said a very contrite Geppetto. "I am afraid the house-elves were a little over-zealous and didn't wait for my signal."

"H...house-elves?" squeaked Erin, trying desperately to calm her charged nervous system. She offered a half smile to show that she was all right.

"House-elves are magical creatures that keep this castle running as smoothly as it does," explained Minerva. "They do all the cooking and they keep the dormitories and other quarters clean."

"Oh," said Erin weakly. Any other time she would have been very interested to hear more about house-elves-were they elves like the beautiful elves in the Lord of the Rings, or were they like fairy-tale elves-but at the moment, she had too many other things whirling around in her brain.

 Minerva removed her hand and Erin self consciously scooted her chair to the table. She could feel the Prince's amused eye on her but she refused to look at him. Her cheeks were burning furiously but she tried to ignore her embarrassment and concentrated on her delicious meal instead.

After five minutes of silence, Erin's worry got the better of her. "Who's looking after Harry?" she enquired, trying not to sound accusatory. "I mean, he is going to wake up from that sedative eventually, and he really shouldn't be by himself."

The Black Prince wasn't looking quite so amused now, Erin noted. He apparently didn't like being virtually accused of dereliction of duty. And sure enough...

"I am not in the habit of leaving my patients unattended, Miss Hanson," he drawled in a would-be-casual voice.

Geppetto poured himself some beautiful scarlet liquid from a pottery ewer. She supposed it was red wine but it looked so much richer in colour, even a little thicker. "You do not have to worry that Harry would be neglected in any way, Erin-nor indeed any of the children that attend this school. We take our responsibilities towards them very seriously indeed."

"I didn't mean to imply..."

"Of course you didn't," comforted Minerva, patting the back of her hand. "It is understandable that you are worried about Harry, but he is being well cared for. Our matron, Madam Pomfrey returned to the school this morning after you left the hospital wing. She is with Harry now."

"I see," said Erin in a very small voice. She took another small bite of her roast chicken, but she really had no appetite. Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his half moon spectacles. He held up the ewer he had just served himself from.

"I can recommend this wonderful oak matured mead, Erin. A small tipple perhaps?" Erin looked at the incarnadine liquid in Geppetto's goblet and thought that it looked absolutely delicious. She nodded her head and then held her breath as the old wizard released the vessel in mid air. She watched mesmerized as, with a wave of his hand Geppetto directed the ewer the slight distance down the table to her place where it upended itself over her cut glass goblet, and poured the ruby liquid without spilling a drop. Then the ewer was snatched out of mid-air by Prince Severus and he poured himself a glass.

The syrupy liquid was the most delicious thing Erin had ever tasted in her life. The honey undertones made her taste buds sit up and purr. And after a third sip, Erin realised why Geppetto had offered her the drink. She felt herself relaxing back into her chair and viewing the room and it's occupants through half closed lids.

She felt relaxed, but she had not forgotten what she needed to make clear to Geppetto-the man so obviously in charge and to whom everyone deferred  without question. She studied the old man as he spoke quietly to Minerva about something to do with next years curriculum. Her lazy glance moved across the table and she did a double take when she found the Prince sitting back in his chair much as she was, studying her minutely.

Much the same as in the hospital wing earlier, the wizard was unabashed to have been caught staring. Erin's chin rose a notch but instead of looking away, Severus just raised his eyebrows and lifted his goblet in salute. It was Erin who looked away.

She put her glass down and partly turned in her chair so that she was facing Geppetto. It seemed that he had been waiting for this moment because he patted Minerva on the forearm to indicate that their conversation was concluded and then he turned all his attention to Erin.

"It would be a total waste of my very precious breath to ask you to delay your excursion back into the Muggle World at this moment, would it not  my dear?"

When Erin had gotten over her shock and snapped her mouth shut, Minerva leaned towards her and  patted the back of her hand again. "He does that all the time," she said, confidentially

"I'm sorry Geppett...errr, Professor Dumbledore..." Erin went as ruby red as the dregs of the oak matured mead in her goblet. Minerva looked at her with raised eyebrows but Dumbledore just looked amused. The Prince was leaning back in his chair, elbows on the carved arms and his goblet of mead held loosely in front of his face by the tips of his long fingers. Erin could see his black eyes over the top of the goblet, but the goblet hid his mouth and the smirk that she knew would be adorning it.

Erin hurried into speech again, desperate to get past the awkward moment. What was the matter with her? How could she have called the ‘Greatest Wizard of the Age', Geppetto to his face?  "I'm sorry, but I'm desperate to contact my mother and father. If they find out from a news broadcast, they'll think I'm dead."

"I perfectly understand your concerns, my dear. The distress to your parents  would be immense. And of course I would not stop you from contacting them. I can only council you about going out into the Muggle world at the moment as it is not known whether Lord Voldemort has worked out yet that the woman spirited away by Remus Lupin lived next door to Harry and therefore escaped the destruction of her home alive. Several Death Eaters saw you after all."

Erin looked confused. "I don't understand," she said. "What would it matter if I was seen. They can't know who I am. And why would they care anyway?"

"Voldemort would care, because Harry Potter escaped his clutches once again and you were seen in his room before Remus Apparated you both out of there. Anyone who has a connection with Harry is of immense interest to Voldemort. And this man, for all his evilness is a very clever, very determined wizard who will be, as we speak, determining who the young woman at the scene of the crime, is.

"The Death Eaters will know exactly how many Muggles were killed, so that they can inform their master. He likes to keep a tally, you see-much like notches on the belt of an American Old West gunslinger. Just one of the little things that shows exactly how crude Tom Riddle is.

"He probably already knows that there was no-one at home at number six when the attack took place. Crude he may be, but he is far from slow. He will quickly put two and two together."

Erin sat frozen in her chair, her eyes fixed on Dumbledore. Could it be true? Could this Voldemort know that the inhabitant of number six, Privet Drive was the woman seen in Harry's bedroom before Remus had fought his way out, taking her with him. Would that automatically make her a target now?

Erin placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. "I don't believe this," she groaned. "I befriend a young boy who is being given a hard time at home..." She chocked out a laugh. "Quite the understatement, that...

"Then I see what I think is an intruder entering my young friend's house, and knowing that his rotten family had gone out earlier, I am worried enough to go and make sure he is all right. I arm myself with a hockey stick and sneak up the stairs of number four to find a scene reminiscent of a slaughterhouse, and a man kneeling beside a bloody and battered Harry who was on the floor.

"The next thing I'm aware of is waking up in your hospital wing and finding that all sense of normality has fled the world."

Erin felt a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. She assumed it was Minerva. She took a deep breath, trying to get herself under some semblance of control. Leaning her forearms on the table-where her half eaten meal had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared earlier-Erin clasped her hands and looked penetratingly at Dumbledore.

She was aware that the Prince had risen and was pouring coffee from a handsome silver pot that seemed to have appeared while she had been hiding her face in her hands. The coffee service and cups and saucers were on a sideboard that had been empty before.

"Can you tell me why it is that this man...this evil wizard, is so determined to get his hands on a sixteen year old boy, whom, I presume, would be absolutely no match for him in terms of power. You did say that Harry was an unqualified wizard, and that this Voldemort is one of the most powerful wizards in the world."

Severus had placed two cups of coffee down in front of Dumbledore and Minerva. It seemed that he was playing mother because he caught Erin's eye and with a gesture of his hand towards the coffeepot and a raised eyebrow, he asked silently if she would like one. She shook her head impatiently and returned her eyes to Dumbledore's old, tired face.

"Why is Harry so very important?" she asked desperately. "I need to know."

"And you shall my dear," said Dumbledore. "But it is not a story that can have justice done to it by means of a five minute declamation." He twirled one finger around the rim of the steaming cup of coffee that he had still to take a sip from.

Prince had reclaimed his chair, and along with Minerva, was savouring his own drink.

"You have unfinished business, as you have stated. You will not be happy until it is done so I suggest that you be accompanied back to the Muggle world so that you can contact your parents."

"Why have you no phones here?"

"Electronic equipment does not work within Hogwarts, nor indeed, within the village of Hogsmeade which is about three-quarters of a mile from the castle gates. All of the magic in the area causes too much electrical interference."

Erin looked down at her hands where they were clasped on the tabletop. Her voice was tentative when she spoke. "If someone could take me to a train station, and perhaps lend me some money until I get to a bank, I could manage by myself." There was a lump in her throat caused by fear, but she had to make the offer to leave. She did not belong in this world, and even though it was people from this world who had destroyed her home and every possession she owned, these particular people were not responsible for her and they did not have to give her room and board.

Dumbledore was shaking his silver head emphatically. "You must see that that is totally out of the question, Erin. None of this was planned but fate has brought you to our door. We would be derelict if we did not do everything in our power to keep you safe from the evil wizards who were responsible for you coming to us in the first place."

Erin hoped that she did not look as relieved as she felt. It would not do for Severus Snape to sneer at her any more than he already had.

"You have no home, no possessions and most importantly, no papers-or should I say plastic. You will not be able to access your bank account, nor indeed make the phone call to Australia as you have no money.

"You will even need identification to get a room in a hotel." Dumbledore looked at her closely. "Unless...do you have any relatives in the country?"

Erin shook her head. "Both my parents were only children and all my grandparents are dead. I had a great aunt, but she died last year. That coincided with my coming back to England and that was when my parents decided to go over to Australia to stay with my brother for a while, leaving me to...to look after their house."

Minerva patted her arm comfortingly. She seemed to have appointed herself Erin's chief source of comfort. Dumbledore finally took a sip of his coffee. He gagged. "Severus, what on Earth is this?" he asked with feigned patience, putting the cup back in it's saucer with careful precision.

"That Headmaster, is a cup of weak, milky coffee. There is no danger that it will hype you up, and prevent you from having a much needed sleep."

"Thank you, Professor Snape. Your concern for my welfare is touching, but I believe I am old enough to determine my own sleeping habits. And I would appreciate it if in future, you remembered that I have an aversion to milk coffee." He banished the cup and its contents with a wave of his hand, then ignoring his interfering Potions Master who was now scowling at the headmaster, he turned his attention back to Erin.

"We will be able to help you deal with all these problems, my dear, but the first order of the day will be contacting your parents. Of, course, I will have to ask that you do not tell them anything of what has actually happened. The Muggle authorities will put the tragedy that occurred in Privet Drive down to a gas explosion. I request that you stick to that same story."

Erin nodded. She was not totally happy that she would have to lie to her parents and her brother. But it was the only thing that she could do. After all, if Erin had been killed in the attack, the story of a gas explosion would be the one that they would be told, because that was the one the Muggle authorities had been enchanted to believe.

And anyway, how could she tell her parents about what had really happened? She cringed when she thought about how that explanation would go.

Mum, Dad, I'm so sorry but your home was destroyed by an evil dark wizard who was after young Harry Potter. You remember Harry, don't you? The young boy who lived with those horrible Dursleys. It turns out the reason they hated him so much was that he's a wizard too. A good wizard-though still  unqualified-but for some reason or other, this evil wizard wants him really badly.

But when the evil wizard missed his quarry, he lost his temper and ordered the whole of Privet Drive destroyed. Oh, and by the way, don't worry about me. I'm staying at an enchanted castle somewhere in Scotland and I'm being well looked after by good wizards.

Yes, that would go down really well. They would be home on the next flight and have her committed so fast, her feet wouldn't touch the ground.

Erin left the problem of her parents and the upcoming explanation and their reactions to it, when she realized that Dumbledore was speaking again.

"...if you think you are up to it."

Erin shook her head. "Sorry, sir...my mind was miles away."

Dumbledore smiled. "Thousands of miles? Australia, no doubt." Erin smiled weakly.

"I was saying that I am not sure how much longer it will be until the Ministry enacts the enchantment and the story is allowed to be released by the Muggle authorities. I think you and your escort should leave within the hour, if you are up to it."

Erin felt a moment of panic. What was she going to say to her parents? And how was she going to manage out there? All she had in the world were the clothes she was sitting here in. She would be so vulnerable with no identification. She had money, but she couldn't get any of it because her cards were in her purse, which was in her handbag, which had been in the house. How could she even prove who she was?

"Severus, can you be ready within the hour?"

Both Erin's and Severus's heads whipped towards Dumbledore who had risen in preparation for leaving the dining room.

Oh, no, no, no! Not him. Please! Anyone but him!

Headmaster! I must object," said Severus through tight lips. He too stood up so that he and Dumbledore were face to face. "As much as I would enjoy escorting Miss Hanson, it is impossible. I have work to do here-work that was interrupted yesterday, I might add. I also have a patient in the hospital wing..."

"Who will be well looked after by Poppy, Severus. It is her job, after all. You yourself said that Harry just needs rest and recuperation, now. Your duties are done unless Harry has a relapse, and as you are so very good at your job, that does not seem likely."

"But..."

"We can contact you with a Patronus within seconds, and you can Apparate back if Poppy feels your presence is needed. And as for your brewing-that can wait."

Severus stepped closer to his boss, placing his large nose within two inches of Dumbledore's crooked one. "Need I remind you that the full moon is less than three days away?" he bit out.

"I am totally cognisant of the phases of the moon, Professor. But I am also aware that that particular potion takes forty-eight hours to brew."

"I pre-prepare certain ingredients as you well know."

"You will be back later this evening, Severus. Plenty of time to attend to the potion."

Severus gesticulated wildly. "Wouldn't Nymphadora be a better choice. She can assimilate better into the Muggle world and I am sure Miss Hanson..." Severus threw out an arm towards her where she was now standing beside  Minerva, who was looking angrily at her young colleague.

"...I am sure Miss Hanson would prefer the company of another woman. If Nymphadora is busy, perhaps Minerva?"

"You know very well that Nymphadora is busy working this afternoon and Minerva too, has much to do," countered Dumbledore calmly.

"As do I!" Erin noted that the perpetually pale face of Severus Snape now had twin slashes of red across his sculpted cheekbones. If she did not want to avoid the company of Severus Snape just as much as he seemed to want to avoid hers, she would have been insulted.

God, did she have BO or something?

"You are an expert in disguise, Severus, and you know the Muggle world as well as Nymphadora does."

"I try to avoid the Muggle world, Albus!"

"Professor Snape. You have your orders. I would suggest you get cracking." Dumbledore put his arm out to gesture that Minerva precede him towards the side door that the elderly witch had entered through earlier.

Minerva smiled at Erin and swept past Dumbledore. Instead of following immediately, he advanced towards Erin. He took her hand and squeezed it. "You will be safe with Severus, Erin. He may be taciturn, but he will assist you and protect you with his life. I will see you both later."

And then she was alone with an absolutely furious wizard who was looking at her through twin curtains of black hair as if he wanted to carry out the job that those Dark wizards would have been only too happy to complete for their master. Erin swallowed, but she lifted her chin defiantly.

She had nothing to be afraid of. This guy worked for Dumbledore, the Greatest Wizard of the Age. He was a teacher, just like her. And though she knew he would be strict and no-nonsense, he would never resort to violence with unruly children. Somehow, Erin knew this instinctively. He had saved Harry's life and even healed her when she had arrived with the injured Remus...or so she had been told. He really couldn't help it if he was an unpleasant man...some people were just like that.

When Severus spoke, his voice dripped icicles. "As I have no choice in this matter Miss Hanson, I suggest we get a move on." Severus stalked to the door and pulled it open. Erin's lips thinned with annoyance but she passed him without a word.

Within seconds, they were in the magnificent generously proportioned Entrance Hall where a suit of armour stood guard on either side of the heavily fortified double oak doors that were standing open on this fine, sunny day. There were several large niches in the walls into which stone benches had been carved. Severus indicated one.

"Wait for me here. I have to return to my chambers before we leave as I have a potion brewing that I will need to cast a stasis charm over."

Erin eyed the cold stone with something less than enthusiasm. She had other ideas. "I don't suppose I would be able to visit Harry quickly before we leave?" Severus's lips thinned and Erin hurried on.

"Just to let him know that I'll be back later and can visit him properly then."

"I think not. The hospital wing is on the fourth floor and down several corridors. We will not have time. Besides, Potter is probably still asleep."

"And your word is law," said Erin angrily.

"Yes. As Dumbledore put you under my protection, my word is law."

"I am not one of your students, Professor Snape. Please don't treat me like one."

Severus stepped close to her, much as he had with Dumbledore earlier. Erin's chin went up a notch. She would not let him intimidate her. She found herself gazing into his black eyes. She thought they would be flat, devoid of expression. But this close to, she could see twin flames burning in their obsidian depths-like a black opal with a red heart.

"I am not leaving the castle because I wish to take an excursion into Muggle London, Miss Hanson. It is not a task that I relish and if we are going to survive each others company, I suggest you decide right here and now that you will do as I order. I am not one to brook disobedience."

After glaring into her reddened face for several seconds more, Severus spun on his heel, his black robes swirling dramatically and brushing heavily against the embarrassed and infuriated woman's jean clad legs.

Erin watched him disappear down a set of stone stairs. She did not leave the Entrance Hall in search of the hospital wing, but nor did she sit on the hard, cold bench.

When the Black Prince reappeared in the Entrance Hall ten minutes later, Erin was standing gazing up at the visored helmet of one of the suits of armour. She had walked around the high-ceilinged, stone floored hall in a pair of too large tartan slippers that Minerva had lent her earlier.

She had forgotten that she only had slippers on-obviously, so had Minerva. And neither Geppetto nor Prince Severus had noticed either. Not surprising really-everyone had much more important things on their minds than footwear. She would have to tell Snape; there must be something he could do. She couldn't go traipsing around London with slippers on.

But she could walk around the Entrance Hall and check out the artefacts, the strangest feature of which were four giant hour glasses, the bottom of each filled with what looked like different coloured gemstones. They couldn't be real gemstones, surely. But Erin now knew better than to wipe that possibility from her mind totally. This castle was magical after all. If they were real, the hourglasses contained, rubies, emeralds, sapphires and yellow topaz-one colour for each. She shook her head in wonder at this incongruous sight. They really did not fit in with the other ancient artefacts.

Apart from the suits of armour and the hourglasses which were each mounted on a marble plinth, the only other free standing items were two huge, narrow necked, brass vases that were situated behind the curved base of the marble banisters, well out of the way of scurrying school children.

After having studied the hourglasses and a couple of ancient, battered shields that adorned the walls, Erin stood in front of the suits of armour, one after the other. They were shined to within an inch of their lives and they had to be at least seven feet tall. Both their visors were closed and as she stood in front of the second one, she had the overwhelming desire to speak to it, to see if it would answer.

"If you are ready Miss Hanson, we can now leave."

Erin had just reached up a tentative hand to see if she could open the visor when the distinctive dark, smoky voice spoke from behind her, giving her such a shock, she partly lost her balance and knocked into the metal suit, which, though it wobbled dangerously on it's pointy metal feet, it thankfully did not fall.

"Watch what you're doing, clumsy!"

The angry, tinny voice issuing from behind the closed visor made Erin yelp in shock again and jump back so quickly, she bumped into Severus, who, unprepared for the impact, automatically grabbed her shoulders in a punishing grip to steady her, and pulled her with him when he staggered backwards a couple of steps.

 Erin didn't have to fight to get free. As soon as he had regained his balance, and made sure that she was steady on her feet, Severus had let her go and stepped back a couple of paces.

Erin spun around, her face crimson with embarrassment. What had she been thinking? In her curiosity to see whether the armour would speak to her, she had failed to hear the return of the Prince. How embarrassing? He had nearly caught her in the act of talking to what should have been an inanimate object, and he had frightened her so much, she had turned into a bungling fool and nearly dislodged the armour and then practically knocked him on  his bum!

That little pas de deux must have looked like something out of ‘Some Mothers Do Have Em'.

"I'm so sorry! I...I was just seeing if..." she broke off, too embarrassed to go on. Severus raised an eyebrow in question.

"Surely not seeing if there was a body in there," he mocked scornfully.

"No!" flared Erin. "I wanted to see if it would talk. Minerva said they do..." she trailed off again, feeling utterly stupid.

Severus just looked at her out of those heavy lidded black eyes. "Perhaps you should have taken Minerva's word. If the suits of armour do decide to talk, they are invariably in a nasty mood."

"Oh," said Erin. "So it's not just black robed wizards who are invariably in a nasty mood within the walls of Hogwarts?"

"Severus's lip curled and he leaned towards her a little. All the better to intimidate, Erin thought. "No, it is not. But the black robed wizard is the one you have to beware of."

Erin bit her lip and even if she had felt up to parrying his last sinister statement, she thought better of it. After all, he had just shot her own acerbic observation down in flames. Never let it be said that she didn't know when to button her lip.

"Now perhaps if you have finished playing with the artefacts," drawled the Prince, "we might set out."

It was as he strode past her that Erin realised that the Prince was no longer actually garbed in black robes. She stared at his back in amazement. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans. Colour mounted her cheeks when she realised that she was focused on the two faded patches of denim that covered his backside. As incredible as it seemed, it looked as though Prince Severus wore the ubiquitous Muggle jeans rather frequently to have caused that degree of fading.

Accomplished wizard or not, Erin was sure that even the Prince would not have thought to fade his jeans in those strategic spots if he had used magic to do it. Dragging her eyes away from the Prince's posterior, Erin hurried after her companion (read babysitter). He had already crossed the stone landing and was now descending the steps, obviously trusting that she was trotting in his wake like a subservient little woman.

His legs were a good deal longer than hers and it was really amazing that she got all the way down the steps and about a third of the way along the wide gravel drive before she twisted her ankle.

Severus had not bothered to slow his footsteps at all. It was a way of working off his anger and frustration at having this most unwelcome task foisted on him by Albus. He could hear the blasted woman crunching over the gravel behind him. Her footsteps were a good deal faster than his. He smiled to himself.

Good!

That would teach her to be flippant with him. His moment of levity left him as quickly as it had come. Why wasn't he in his lab right now doing what he was paid to do? He would even rather be making Wolfsbane for that mangy werewolf than going on this excursion. Now this was something that Lupin would be good at. He was good at playing the white knight. He had practised as late as last night after all.

God, what have I done to deserve this?

"OWW! Oww, oww!" Severus spun around. The damn woman was hopping around on one foot and every three hops, she was putting the other foot down but pulling it straight back up, obviously unable to put weight on it. Her face was white and set and she had her fingers pressed hard against her mouth to stifle any further cries of pain.

Severus put his head back and closed his eyes in a mixture of anger and exasperation. They hadn't even left the grounds and already this excursion was turning into a circus.

Erin fought down a surge of nausea as pain thrummed viciously through her already swelling ankle. Oh, why hadn't she thought to ask misery guts Snape to do something about Minerva's too big slippers before she had ventured outside? Because he had made her so angry, the subject of the slippers had totally slipped her mind. And now she had sprained her ankle.

"Miss Hanson!" Prince was striding back to her, his face a mask of fury.

Erin made an effort to stand still but it was hard. The sight of the furious wizard made her want to do several things at once. The most pressing of these was to hop over to the grass verge and try to lower herself onto her butt without causing herself any more pain. The second thing was to vomit because her recent meal was having a great deal of trouble staying down-and as she saw the furious wizard bearing down on her where she stood impersonating a stork-the third thing was to run away. This last was not an option though because she couldn't run anywhere.

As Severus bore down on her, he bent and picked up the ridiculous tartan slipper that made a splodge of colour on the white gravel, hardly breaking stride as he did so. Because it had been too big, the slipper had flipped sideways as Erin hurried after Snape and she had come down on the side of her foot.

"What in the name of Merlin were you thinking to be wearing such ridiculous footwear? Do you make a habit of going out in public wearing slippers?" He sounded just as infuriated as he looked.

"They're not mine!" she bit back and just then, she put her foot down for balance. She closed her eyes and gasped, paling even more as the pain ripped through her.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Severus drew his wand from an invisible pocket in the leg of his jeans (Erin had wondered fleetingly where he had it hidden) and with a flourish and a whispered spell, a chair appeared, spinning in midair before it settled next to her. He took Erin's elbow roughly and thrust her none-to-gently onto the chair.

"You really have the art of being a gentleman down pat, don't you?" Erin said angrily, breathing deeply in an effort to make the pain bearable. She looked down. Her ankle was so swollen, the hem of her jeans was becoming tight.

"I never professed to being a gentleman, Miss Hanson. And now that we have established that, perhaps you could tell me what in the bloody hell you were doing wearing these?" He shook the hideous slipper in her face.

"Minerva lent them to me," she said slightly belligerently. "You might not remember, but I arrived last night in this hitherto unknown world with bare feet!"

"Then why did you not mention them earlier and I would have been able to prevent this accident." Severus was now squatting down examining her foot. He had it propped up on his knee and was gently palpating the swelling. Erin drew in a hissing breath.

Severus glanced up impatiently and Erin clamped her lips together, determined not to make another sound. She held her bottom lip between her teeth and watched as Severus moved his wand in a complicated series of movements over the painfully tight ankle.

She felt a slight tingling start deep within the joint. It intensified to the point where it was worse than the pain of the sprain. Erin bit down on her lip so hard, she tasted blood. Her efforts were to no avail though because a grunt of pain still escaped. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back, taking more deep breaths.

After about fifteen seconds when she thought she might pass out, the pain began to ease. It lessened by slow degrees and after a minute, all Erin could feel was Severus's touch as he palpated the ankle again. It was completely pain free. She lowered her head, fixing her eyes on the Prince's black head. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and was tied with a black leather thong. The hair was so black, it had a blue sheen. Her fingers twitched. She had an almost overwhelming desire to touch it, to see whether it was as silky smooth as it looked. And then Severus looked up and Erin felt her face flood with colour.

What's the matter with me?

 The pain must have made her delirious. Severus lowered her foot back to the gravel but before he stood, he lifted her other foot and removed the slipper that was still in place. He held them both in one hand and tapped each with his wand. They changed into a pair of white plimsolls which Severus then handed to her.

"Not the height of fashion, but they will suffice. At least they'll stay on your feet." He turned and moved away a few paces. Erin glared at his back. Arrogant so and so. He was so sure of his own expertise with a wand, he had not felt it necessary to ask her if she had any residual pain.

With a little huff of annoyance, she bent down to put the plimsolls on. She hadn't worn a pair since before she had left for Australia. But he was right. They would stay on her feet and she supposed that that had been his objective rather than providing her with what she would prefer to wear. She wondered if Minerva would want her slippers back. She had said they were an old pair and that Erin could keep them for as long as she needed them. Could the plimsolls be made back into a pair of tartan slippers?

But as soon as she slipped her size six feet into the shoes, she knew that they probably wouldn't stay on her feet. They were the same size as the slippers had been and even though they laced up, her feet would slip around in them. She had better say something to the bad-tempered, miserable...

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Professor Snape, but the slippers were too big for me. That's why one of them slipped off." Severus turned and looked at her as if he had just unearthed her from beneath a rock. She would have bitten her lip but it was still hurting from before. He made her feel like a recalcitrant pupil.

"Do up the laces."

"Pardon."

"Do up the laces." Erin glared for a moment but then she bent down and did as he asked.

"Stand up."

"Do you even know how to say please?" Erin demanded springing to her feet.

One eyebrow rose in a perfect arc and he crossed his arms, his wand dangling from his fingers. "Do you know how to say thank you?"

If Erin thought she had blushed before, it was nothing to the heat she could feel in her face now. She really did feel like a recalcitrant pupil now. Had she not thanked him for fixing her ankle? She had meant to.

Arrrgh. The man made her want to pull her hair out. "I'm sorry," she said as calmly as she could. "Thank you for fixing my ankle."

It seemed the Prince really was incapable of being polite. He didn't acknowledge her words at all. Instead, he said, "Tell me when they feel comfortable," and he pointed his wand at her feet. Erin felt the plimsolls shrink slowly.

After a few seconds she held up her hand. ‘That feels fine thank you." Severus moved his wand so that it was pointing at the chair and it faded into nothingness.

"Now perhaps we can continue. This expedition is for your benefit, after all."

‘Actually, it's for my parents' benefit," she contradicted, hurrying to catch up with him.

"And of course your peace of mind has nothing to do with anything?"

Erin clamped her lips together, determined not to give him more fodder to nourish his poisonous tongue.

The driveway must have been a quarter of a mile long and she was more than a little out of breath by the time she joined Severus at the magnificent golden gates where a thick chain had unravelled itself and one of the gates was swinging open. Once they were through, it shut again with a resonant clang and the chain was snaking back up, tying the two gates together.

"How are we getting to London?" asked Erin, having regained her breath.

"By bus," was the succinct reply and Severus flung his right arm out, his wand pointing straight ahead.

8888

Erin had thought the Prince had been joking when he had said they would be travelling by bus. Forty minutes later, she sincerely wished that he had been joking. This monstrosity wasn't a bus. It was a torture chamber. Erin doubted that re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere on the Space Shuttle would be as rough. But of course, those lucky astronauts were strapped tightly into their seats, weren't they?

After the Prince had flung out his arm, Erin had heard a loud bang which had made her jump and there had been a slight disturbance in the air-like a sudden gust of wind, only the trees in the nearby forest were perfectly still. Severus had taken her arm and had told her to step where he did. Amazingly, he had looked like he was going up some steps and though she had been utterly confused, she had tried to copy him. After bumping her shin on an invisible step however, she had been a lot more attentive. Once inside, she had been able to see the Knight Bus in all it's garish glory, from the plush armchairs to the chandeliers hanging from the high purple ceiling. She tried not to gawk but it was very difficult. The thing had three levels!

Hapless travellers on this magical conveyance would need to be treated for minor injuries when they reached their destinations. Luckily, there were not many passengers at the moment. But those that there were, were thrown around with impunity as the bus jumped magically from one place to another with all the finesse of a car crash.

Erin watched sympathetically as a small, squat, untidy wizard repositioned his hat on his head and with a groan, turned onto his knees so that he could drag himself back into the chair from which he had just been thrown for the fifth time.

Erin was able to watch him from an upright position as she had managed to maintain her seat. That happy circumstance was thanks entirely to the Prince. Left to her own devices she was sure that she would have been checking the floor for grime as well, but after she had nearly been flung out of her seat the first time, the Prince had stepped in. He had been sitting across from her, looking entirely disdainful of the bus, it's driver, conductor and passengers. He had informed her that he could help her maintain her seat but it would require him casting a charm on her. The Prince had eschewed armchairs which admittedly looked very unstable, for a couple of regular, if old fashioned, bus seats.

Erin had panicked for a moment, but Severus had rolled his eyes and informed her that he had performed the same charm on himself and it was not in the least dangerous; indeed, it was highly advantageous when one was forced to travel on the Knight Bus.

When the bus had taken off again and she had been thrown back in her seat so violently she had nearly slipped sideways onto the floor, Erin had repositioned herself and nodded, not anxious to join her fellow travellers on the dirty floor.

Severus had pointed his wand at her jean clad bottom. She didn't feel anything but embarrassed, but all of a sudden, she could not move off the seat. Her bottom was stuck and throughout the rest of the journey, even though her upper body was flung around roughly, she remained attached to the seat. The solution was not perfect-she would probably end up with whiplash-but it was an improvement. Without the spell, she could have completed the journey on her hands and knees on the less than pristine floor.

The Prince kept his eyes averted from the antics of his fellow travellers by gazing out of the window after he had stuck Erin to her seat. She wondered why others didn't employ the same charm to avoid the ignominy of their too frequent upheavals. She asked the Prince. He continued to glare out of the grimy window for a few seconds more and Erin thought how incongruous he looked in the company of the more contemporarily dressed passengers. Although amazingly, now that she had gotten over her shock (How many of those had she had in the last eighteen odd hours) she thought Prince Severus looked quite at home in his faded jeans and the light-weight collared grey jumper.

When she thought he was not going to answer her and after the little wizard had picked himself off the floor once again, Severus cast him a disdainful look and then fastened his eyes on his companion. "When a wizard has a journey to make, he generally Apparates, Miss Hanson. It is almost instantaneous and though not exactly the most comfortable sensation in the world, it is quickly over. There are two significant drawbacks to Apparition however. Number one is that one has to know exactly where one wishes to Apparate to-that is, one generally has to have been there before, or at least know exactly where their destination is located.

"Number two, is that Apparition is a difficult thing to learn and many wizards and witches never actually manage to master the art. There can be disastrous consequences when Apparition is not performed correctly. The Knight Bus is an alternative form of travel that...shall I say...more mediocre wizards employ.

"If they have not been able to learn Apparition-and this is by no means the only reason one travels on the Knight Bus-then they are often mediocre in every other way and a sticking charm would probably be above many of them."

"Then the reason we're on the Knight Bus is because I'm with you."

Severus nodded once.

"But you can Apparate with a...a Muggle..." Erin found it difficult referring to herself as a Muggle. "Remus Apparated to Hogwarts with me last night."

"Lupin did just that, and as a result, he was nearly killed." Erin paled and looked exceedingly guilty. To his credit, Severus did not let her stew for long. "If he had left you, you would definitely have been killed. Lupin obviously thought your life was important enough to risk the danger.

"Apparition with a Muggle is much more difficult and is very draining magically speaking for the wizard or witch. You were unconscious, so that exacerbates the drain.

"That is not the reason I chose not to Apparate today, however. It is not a pleasant sensation for the witch or wizard, as I have said, but it is even worse for the Muggle."

"Oh," said Erin softly. Poor Remus, she thought. He had fought those Death Eaters before Apparating with her. No wonder he had been so unwell last night. No wonder the Prince had given him the same sleeping potion that he had Harry. He had needed to recover from physical wounds as well as magical exhaustion. She looked at Severus who was obviously aware of her guilty feelings. But it wasn't only guilt she was feeling. There was curiosity too. She was, in fact wondering whether the Prince would have risked his life to save hers last night.

Severus turned back to the widow and stared blindly out. He too was wondering whether he would have risked himself for Erin Hanson.  

8888

"The Leaky Cauldron."

Erin, who had just been wrenched forward in her seat again for the umpteenth time heard the broad Cockney accent of the conductor calling out another destination. She didn't take any notice until Severus said, "This is where we alight."

He had already reversed the sticking charm on himself as he was standing and his wand was now pointing at her tail end again, unsticking her. She felt decidedly wobbly as she rose to her feet and Severus actually took her by the arm to lead her towards the back of the bus and down the steps. Thank goodness they hadn't been on one of the upper levels as Erin was sure her legs wouldn't have supported her all the way down.

Once on the street, Erin presumed the bus disappeared because there was another loud bang (which the scurrying pedestrians did not seem to hear because no-one looked around to see the source of the noise). Severus, who was still holding her arm, let her go when he thought she had regained the full use of her legs.

Erin saw that they were on Charring Cross Road. Severus stepped off the curb to cross the road and Erin hurried to catch up. She came abreast of him, having decided that she was not going to follow in his wake like a dutiful little woman any longer. "Where are we going?"

Severus inclined his head towards a shop front. "In there."

They regained the pavement on the other side of the road and Erin found herself standing in front of a large book store. She looked at Severus. "You need to buy a book?"

"No, I do not need to buy a book, and if I did, I would not be shopping in there." And once again, he took her arm and walked towards the other end of the large plate-glass window towards a music store.

"Close your eyes," ordered Severus. He did not sound in the mood for argument and so Erin closed her eyes. She heard a door open and when Severus told her there was a small step, she lifted her foot, following his movement. The light became dimmer-she could detect that through her closed eyelids-and the air became cooler. She could smell the distinct aroma of spirits and ale and hear the muted chatter of hushed voices. Were they in a pub.

"You may open your eyes now."

They were indeed in a pub. But a pub unlike any Erin had ever been in before. It was old... very old, and dark and dingy. The most prominent feature of the room wasn't the gleaming bar, but the most enormous fireplace she had ever seen in her life. She imagined it to be like a fireplace in the Great Hall of an ancient castle where once whole deer would have been roasted on a spit.

At the moment, the grate was empty, but as she stared, there was a loud whoosh and a huge pillar of emerald flame appeared. A stooped, old  woman-Erin presumed she was a witch-wearing a grubby brown cloak and a pointed hat and carrying what looked remarkably like a cauldron, stepped out of the flames. She crossed the room with little shuffling footsteps and placed her cauldron on one of the tables, before walking to the bar where the bartender must only have been able to see the top half of her hat. She was the epitome of a wicked witch from a children's fairytale.

"Please shut your mouth Miss Hanson. You are drawing attention to yourself." Erin felt like laughing a little hysterically. She was drawing attention to herself. She, a British woman in the middle of London in the year, 1996, wearing a perfectly acceptable, modern ensemble of jeans and a summer-weight jumper...not to mention a pair of pristine white plimsolls was attracting attention, when a woman wearing a pointed hat and wrapped in a brown cloak that looked as if it was made of hessian and who was carrying a cauldron around, blended in with the scenery.

The world had certainly turned on it's axis since last night.

Expecting her to follow, the Prince strode across the floor. Erin did follow, because now that her eyes had adjusted to the smoky darkness, she could see other...people?...sitting at tables and a couple more standing at the bar. The witch who had stepped out of the flames was human (at least Erin assumed she was), as were a couple of men...wizards, presumably, sitting at a table in intense conversation with their heads close together. But there was another...thing, totally draped with gauzy looking wraps sitting alone at a table nursing a smoking drink, and a high pitched cackle-a shiver ran down Erin's spine-came from a woman with long, grey hair sitting with a younger version of herself with long black hair. They could have been witches but they both had decidedly green complexions. The older of the two was smoking a pipe and her small, beady eyes were fixed greedily on Erin.

Erin hurried faster and bumped into Severus's back. He looked down at her and seeing her fearful gaze dart back to the table where the two females were sitting, he too looked at them. Erin didn't see, but Severus's eyes narrowed threateningly and he glared unblinkingly at the bold eyed hag and it was mere seconds before she looked away.

"Are they human?" Erin whispered, as quietly as she could. Now that they had both turned away to continue to weave their way amongst the tables and chairs, Erin could feel those eyes on her again, and she tried to suppress another shudder.

"They are hags," Severus answered indifferently.

"Oh, of course," Erin croaked weakly.

"Professor Snape!" it was the wizened old barman-obviously human but very old, bald and wrinkled.  He looked like a walnut. "Can I get you and the pretty lady a drink?"

"Thank you, no." And with no polite word of regret, the Prince took her elbow again and virtually dragged her the length of the bar and through a thick wooden door into a small, weed riddled courtyard where two large, overflowing rubbish bins took up pride of place. The area looked to be about six feet square and was surrounded on three sides by very high brick walls.

"Why," said Erin, "did you drag me into a pub that I could not see from the outside, only to traverse the length of the room and end up in a claustrophobic courtyard where it appears the only thing we can do is keep the rubbish bins company?

"Severus, who was drawing his wand said, "Please cease your inane prattle Madam. I rarely do anything that is pointless. All you have to do is do as you are told."

Erin clamped her lips together angrily. He was looking at her with that upwardly mobile eyebrow in the raised position again. She supposed it would be a threatening prop for him to use to cow his students but all it did for her was make her want to smack the supercilious look off his superior face.

"Like a good little Muggle woman?" she bit out angrily.

"Precisely," he drawled. "Now I am about to cast a charm on you that will make you virtually invisible."

"I beg your pardon," she said with a certain degree of trepidation. She was positive that he would not hurt her, but still, she had had enough magic cast on her to last a lifetime, thank you very much. She wasn't magical, after all. What if magic sometimes reacted differently on Muggles. Making her invisible just seemed to be a lot more significant than sticking her to a chair or bed, or silencing her.

Could the Prince make her invisible and then not be able to reverse the charm? She asked him.

"Miss Hanson, Without blowing my own trumpet, I can assure you that I am a more than adept wizard who has been casting Disillusionment Charms since I was eighteen years old. I have never failed to reverse one."

"On a Muggle?" she asked worriedly, trying to back even further into the brick wall behind her.

"It is easy for a wizard to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. It requires a bit more effort to cast one on a fellow wizard or witch..." Severus reached forward and tapped her sharply on the top of her head with his wand. "It is as easy to cast the charm on a Muggle as it is to cast it on oneself, because you have no magic that will instinctively try to battle my spell."

Erin felt a weird sensation, like some kind of thick, cold liquid-perhaps melted ice cream-was trickling down from the top of her head to encompass her whole body. When she got up the nerve to looked down, she couldn't see anything...not until she moved that is, and then she saw a shimmer, something like a heat haze and he could see the merest outline of her hand taking on the features of the brick wall behind her raised limb.

"Now as I cannot see you easily, Miss Hanson, it is imperative that you stay close to me-very close. If someone stops and addresses me, you will remain absolutely still and quiet directly behind me. I would prefer that no one knows of your presence whilst we are in Diagon Alley."

"What is Diagon Alley and why are we going there?" asked Erin, heartily sick and tired of being bossed around by this man who seemed to be the very definition of a male chauvinist pig. Or perhaps he hated all Muggles, be they male or female.

The Prince didn't answer straight away. He was now taping his wand-seemingly randomly-against a series of bricks in the wall directly opposite the door leading back into the pub. When the bricks started to wriggle and reposition themselves so that they formed a perfect archway, Erin's mouth didn't even drop open. Her eyes might have widened a little, but on the whole, she thought that she was definitely becoming acclimatised to magic.

"This is Diagon Alley," he answered and he stepped through the archway with Erin directly on his heels. "It is a wholly magical shopping and business precinct hidden right in the heart of London.

Severus was pleased to see that the Alley wasn't too crowded today. No one even glanced at him as he strode towards the shiny, white façade of Gringotts Bank in the distance. He could hear the soft slaps of her rubber-soled shoes on the cobblestones as she hurried to keep up with him. He sincerely hoped that she didn't see any non-human magical beings that might frighten her into crying out. He had only thought to put Erin under a concealment charm at the last moment, after the hag inside the pub had stared at her covetously. He was glad that he had. There was no point in taking chances and he should have done it before entering the Leaky Cauldron.

He also hoped that he did not meet any of his fellow Death Eaters. Few of them felt the need to hide away as none but family and fellow followers of the Dark Lord knew of their link with the madman.

Of course, the ranks had now been thinned with the capture of Lucius and the other fools who had been bested by Potter and his little band of followers before the Order had turned up at the Ministry. So the senior Malfoy and McNair, Crabbe and Avery who had always remained well in view despite the rumours that had cropped up every now and then as to their true affiliation, would not be walking around Diagon Alley for the foreseeable future because they were enjoying the five star comfort of individual cells in Azkaban.

Severus smirked. Serves them right, he thought. They were all ruthless killers who would have snuffed out the lives of five of those teens without batting an eyelid. They would have then dragged Potter before the Dark Lord who would have revelled in the boys capture by keeping him alive as long as possible whilst torturing him into insanity before delivering the coup de grace. Last night had been a very close run thing. If Dumbledore had not had such a close connection with the boy, ‘the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord' would even now be in the Dark Lord's clutches.

"Can you please slow down." Severus heard the angry hiss from close behind him. At least she was doing as she had been told. He slowed his pace fractionally and when he came to the curved expanse of the white steps leading up to the ornate bronze doors leading into the bank, he followed their curve off to the side where the foot traffic was virtually non existent.

He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, looking as casual as if he was just waiting for someone. He felt Erin lean against the wall next to him. "I need to go into the bank. It would be best if you wait right here..." His eyes scanned the Alley constantly.

"You need to go to the bank right now?"  Erin asked in a voice that registered her disbelief. "And you want to leave me here, by myself. What if someone else decides they want to lean against the wall?"

"No one will want to lean against the wall. Just do..."

"As I'm told. Yes, I know what to do, having been subjected to your repetitive litany several times already today. Tell me Professor Snape, what did your last slave die of?"

Severus ignored her and pushed away from the wall. Erin grasped his sleeve in a convulsive grip. "Please, can't I come in with you? I don't want to stay out here by myself." Her grip tightened even more. "What are they?" she whispered.

Severus looked around; three goblins were walking along with their typical short-legged rolling gait, their heads close together as they no doubt discussed the galleons and the treasures that had passed through their hands that day. With their big heads and their large pointed ears, their long noses and pointed teeth and flat, cruel eyes, Severus could understand why someone who had never seen them before would be frightened. Goblins were more than a little intimidating.

"They're goblins, Miss Hanson. They are the guardians of the fortunes within Gringotts Bank. You will encounter many more within it's walls and they are quite amazingly astute when it comes to sensing subterfuge."

Severus heard Erin swallow and then she was backing away from him. "Please don't be too long," she said in an almost inaudible voice.

Severus stared at where he assumed Erin was standing. For the first time since she had ended up at Hogwarts last night, the young woman was not projecting anger or false confidence. She was sounding much as he would have expected her to sound well before now...frightened.

He would have answered but a mother and her three rowdy offspring were passing close by. Clenching his jaw, he spun on his heel and climbed the stairs from the side, taking them two at a time.

He had felt seething anger at being forced to take the Muggle woman on this excursion. Now added to that anger was guilt. He was playing this whole thing by ear, making it up as he went along. They would need Muggle money so that Erin could ring her parents. That was why he had come to Diagon Alley first, to exchange galleons for pounds.

Severus supposed that they could have walked into Hogsmeade and gone to the local Gringotts' branch there. But he had not thought of that because he had allowed his anger to override his good sense. All he had wanted was to get away from the school because the sooner this trip had started, the sooner it would be over. That is what he had thought at the time, with the result that he had placed his companion under a Concealment Charm because he was not sure how much of her the Death Eaters had seen last night. Death Eaters had long memories and they did not like to lose their quarry. If they had seen enough, they would be on the lookout for a young red haired female who had been spirited away by the werewolf, Lupin.

 The phone call to Australia was the first priority. The woman did need to let her parents know before they saw any news reports. But then again, did a gas explosion that had wiped out practically the whole of a suburban street and killed most of it's residents warrant international coverage?

He supposed if it was a slow news day, it might.

They needed money to make an international phone call and as Erin could not access her money without some serious sleight-of-hand, accessing his own money was the only option. Dumbledore had obviously also been too pre-occupied with the recent happenings and Potter's near escape to have thought of giving him any Muggle money. Severus knew Dumbledore kept a moderate amount of Muggle money at Hogwarts for emergencies. Even genius could have a bad day it seemed.

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Erin watched the Prince stride up the white marble steps two at a time and then enter the bank, acknowledging with a very slight inclination of his head the bearded goblin who was acting as a door...well, a door goblin she supposed.

She shook her head as though to clear it. Witches, wizards, elves, hags and now goblins. If this reality she was in was a dream, she hoped she woke up soon. It was becoming more and more weird by the second. A wholly magical street hidden in the middle of London that non-magical folk knew nothing about, a triple-decker violently purple bus that moved noisily and with monumental ignorance of the road rules throughout the countryside, a magnificent castle somewhere in the north that showed itself as an unstable ruin if you looked at it from outside the gates...all of these things were tangibly solid once she was inside them but she could not see them from the outside.

She shook her head and rubbed her Disillusioned arms upon which goosebumps had erupted. At least up to now, she had only encountered humans (she hadn't seen any elves, she had just been told of their existence), but here, in this street...this alley, and in the pub, she had seen some seriously weird beings, some that were quite frightening. She still could not understand why that hag had looked at her as if she wanted to eat her. Did hags eat young women, or could she sense that Erin was a Muggle and maybe they ate Muggles. She shuddered. Either scenario was revolting.

And right now, one of those things that was draped with gauzy wraps was hurrying past. He...she, no...it didn't look like a storybook mummy, because the gauzy coverings weren't wrapped tightly around it's body. They were much more loosely draped. She should have asked Severus what it was when she had asked about the hags.

Severus had been right though. No-one came near her wall. She slid down until she was sitting on the cobbled ground. From her low vantage point, she watched the comings and goings of the various magical beings as they moved up and down the twisting, shop lined alley-many of them window shopping, others going into the old-fashioned, bow fronted shops or businesses, some ascending the steps to the bank, others coming out and some hefting small bags of what looked like heavy coins.

Erin didn't know how long she sat there, becoming more and more nervous as Severus failed to return within what she considered to be a reasonable amount of time to transact a bank deposit or withdrawal...whatever it was that Severus had felt the need to do when she should be contacting her parents. Though nobody felt the need to lean against her wall, many passed close by and Erin was becoming seriously worried when she saw the Prince exit the bank and begin to descend the steps, angling off to the side where he had left her.

Letting out a little shuddering sigh of relief, she quickly regained her feet. She wanted to rush across the intervening space to meet him but she restrained herself, knowing he wouldn't be too pleased if she left her place. Severus was folding what looked like some paper money and pushing it into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Severus Snape!" Severus froze as he was hailed from behind. Erin saw him close his eyes and arrange his face into it's coldest and haughtiest lines. For the few seconds that he had been concentrating on the money and putting it in his pocket, he had not looked as if he was trying to keep the world out...his expression had been thoughtful and somehow freer. Now, as Severus turned towards the tall wizard with the short grey hair and pretentious, pointy beard, which he was stroking with long fingers, his mask was back in place. Erin noticed that the grey-haired wizard looked very pale and there was a light sheen of perspiration covering his face. There was also a definite tremor in his hands.

"Selwyn," acknowledged Severus in a bored, drawling voice. "I would have thought after your little excursion into the Muggle world last night that you might be recovering today...especially as our master was far from pleased with the less than satisfactory results."

Erin could hear the conversation quite clearly and when she heard the reference to the excursion into the Muggle world, she slowed her breathing, not wanting to miss a word. Severus Snape was a not a pleasant person to be around; he exuded frostiness and remoteness, but though he annoyed her intensely, Erin was not frightened of him. This man Selwyn did frighten her though. She was extremely glad that she was all but invisible because, though overall his visage was more pleasant than the Princes, he exuded raw evil. His voice was tinged with bitterness when he spoke.

"I see you have recovered well, though. No residual tremors for the gifted Potions Master. I knew you were good Snape, but I did not know that there were any potions that could entirely eradicate the effects of Cruciatus in such a short time."

"Put it down to a healthy constitution and a pure heart," drawled Severus. Selwyn snorted then dragged a small bottle of crimson coloured liquid from a hidden pocket within his robes and held it up in front of Severus eyes.

"This is why I have had to venture out today when I should be at home resting. As our Lord does not think it necessary to share your brilliance with the rest of us, I had to venture into Knockturn Alley to purchase this dubious concoction. To your trained eye, does it look as if it would do the job?"

Severus removed the bottle from the other man's palsied fingers and removing the stopper, he raised it to his nose and sniffed. His expression didn't change when he handed the bottle back. "It is the best you will purchase here. You will have gotten over the worst of the residual pain and tremors in about three days."

Selwyn snorted with disgust and moved closer to Snape, lowering his voice. "I don't suppose you would give me some of your own brew, Snape?" Severus raised his eyebrow and looked colder than ever. "I will make it worth your while. You know I am well placed. You will benefit greatly while you supply me with any potions I may need."

"You mean...go behind our master's back. Selwyn, I am surprised at you. Our master would surely realise that you have recovered a little too quickly from his punishment. He would surely ask you where you came by such a miraculous potion."

"I would not implicate you Snape. I could say..."

"The Dark Lord would know that you lie and you would be lucky to escape with your life and I would be violently punished again for assisting you without his permission. Put up with your indisposition, Selwyn. It will pass."

"You Snape, are a bastard!" hissed the angry wizard. Severus looked supremely indifferent to the man's insults. "For God sake, you too were punished last night. How can you not want to defy him in certain things.

"My desire is to stay alive and serve our master to the best of my ability. It seems our goals are quite dissimilar. I wonder if he knows?" Selwyn blushed an ugly plum colour and suddenly looked a little frightened. "And I can assure you, my mother was definitely married to my Muggle father."

"Ah, yes, your Muggle father," hissed Selwyn. It is as well that our master considers your genius more important than your half-blood beginnings, is it not? Is it your Muggle father's influence that encourages you to roam around the wizarding world in those ridiculous clothes?"

"No.  It is the need for comfort and the application of common sense. I have to venture into Muggle London, Selwyn, on an errand for Dumbledore. Do you not think I would draw attention to myself if I dressed traditionally?"

"An errand for Dumbledore! You are nothing but his lackey, Snape. I do not see the point of your continued presence at that school. You offer nothing in the way of information as far as I can see."

"Perhaps you should point that out to our Lord," responded Severus coldly. Selwyn blushed again but it seemed that he was just stupid enough and arrogant enough to continue on in the same vein.

"Well as you are so very close to that Muggle loving old fool, has he given you any news on the boy's whereabouts? Or does he not trust you as much as you would like."

Severus looked down his nose at his interrogator. "I report to our master, Selwyn, not to the likes of you. Now, if you will excuse me..." Severus resumed his descent of the steps.

"And what of the girl, Snape?" Selwyn called to his back. "Who was the girl whisked away by the werewolf? You must have heard of that as I am sure your other master would have called a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix by now."

Severus turned back to face Selwyn. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not seen Lupin at all, a circumstance I am most grateful for, I assure you."

"There was a girl, Snape. In Potter's room in that Muggle monstrosity called a house. She was unconscious and the werewolf did all he could to protect her. Then when he got the chance he Apparated away with her." He grinned evilly. "Perhaps the effort might have done him in. He was wounded before he Apparated away. I saw to that.

"How very clever of you, Selwyn. Tell me, was he injured during your duel, or when he bent down to pick up this supposedly unconscious female?"

Selwyn was shaking with rage. "You're smart mouth will be the undoing of you Snape, mark my words."

"I am only trying to clarify the salient facts. Remus Lupin is a formidable opponent Selwyn..." Selwyn snorted, and the corner of Severus's mouth quirked up in an unpleasant sneer. "Oh, yes...do not think that just because he is a werewolf he is only dangerous at the full moon. If in fact it was Lupin you were fighting, and if indeed, he was protecting an unconscious woman, then it is the luckier for you, because I do not think you would have had to worry about being punished by our master for a botched job..."

Selwyn's face was twisted into a mask of hatred and his hand actually moved towards a pocket where Severus was sure his wand was hidden. Severus's eyes narrowed and suddenly, he had his wand drawn, though he held it at his side. "My advice would be, don't," he said in his deadliest voice.

And with a face contorted with fury, the Death Eater twisted on the spot and Disapparated.

Severus stood primed for battle for several seconds more before relaxing by degrees and stowing his wand again. It had been an unpleasant scene and one that he could have done without, especially today. Magnus Selwyn was a blow hard who was one of the few who attacked Severus's half-blood status despite the fact that the Dark Lord overlooked it and despite the fact that Severus was one of the inner circle and he, Selwyn was not. It was a fact that rankled and he never ceased to make a point of it.

Checking surreptitiously that no one was taken undue notice of him, including the goblin bowing clients into the bank, Severus continued his descent of the steps. He walked a short way along the street and stopped in front of the nearest shop and casually looked around again.

He had not felt it would be wise to rejoin Erin immediately after his meeting with Selwyn. And he was fairly certain the dratted woman would have followed him anyway. He stood staring blindly at the window display; a wonderful collection of cauldrons made of many different metals and ranging in size from a cup, to large enough to poach a human adult in. At least he had stopped in front of a shop that Severus Snape would conceivably be interested in, the shop that Severus actually preferred to buy his cauldrons from.

After another casual look around, Severus said in a loud whisper, "Are you nearby, Miss Hanson?" There was no reply and after a slightly louder query that still elicited no response, he had to conclude that the girl, for once in her life, had actually done as she had been ordered. Cursing her belated descent into obedience, Severus wended his casual way back towards the bank and the wall he had left Erin propping up. Perhaps she had dropped off to sleep. He hoped that that might be the case because that way, there was every possibility that she might have missed the exchange between himself and Selwyn.

When he neared the wall, he moved more carefully, wishing to avoid standing on her. "Miss Hanson?" he whispered again, and still there was no reply. But he could hear her breathing. Surely that was the woman breathing.

"Miss Hanson...Erin. I would appreciate a response. I know you're here."

Still there was no response, and becoming more and more irate, and making sure that no one was watching him, Severus moved his right foot in an arc...felt nothing...sidled further towards the steps feeling an utter fool,  and repeated the manoeuvre. God, when he got hold of her...

Severus's foot brushed up against something, but almost simultaneously, he pulled it back and only just managed to bite back a yelp of pain as a clenched fist connected hard with his thigh. What the hell...

There was a scrabbling sound from his right and then hurrying footsteps but before the disillusioned woman could move past him, he grabbed what turned out to be a handful of knobbly knit fabric which he twisted around his hand at the same time as Erin hissed furiously, "let me go!" Severus dragged out his wand and waved it in a wide arc around their two struggling bodies, incanting in a hissing breath, two separate spells: Protego Totalum and Muffliato. By the time he had finished, he was panting with the exertion of holding his struggling quarry whom he had pulled back against his chest, the better to hold her still.

"Let me go you bastard!" she hissed again, her voice breaking with the effort to try and not yell at him hysterically. Obviously, she had heard the conversation between himself and Selwyn, and obviously, she had gotten the wrong end of the wand.

Now that he did not have to worry about them being noticed, he twisted her in his arms and shook her hard. "Stop it, you foolish woman."

She continued to struggle. "You're one of them. You're one of those murdering scum that tried to kill Harry and then went on to destroy Privet Drive."

"Cast your mind back woman. Who was it who saved Potter? And Albus Dumbledore will attest that I was at Hogwarts when the attack on Privet Drive took place." 

Erin struggled against Severus's hold, trying to wrench free  ‘I know what I heard," she panted.

"If you do not stop struggling, I will have to petrify you again." Erin did stop sstruggling but she remained rigid with fury and indignation.

"Now, you will follow me back down to the Leaky Cauldron and once we are back in Charring Cross Rd, I will reverse the Disillusionment charm. "It was only at the last moment I thought to Disillusion you and it is as well that I did. I was afraid that we might meet someone of Mr Selwyn's ilk."

"Someone of your ilk, you mean!" spat Erin

"If I was of Selwyn's ilk, Miss Hanson, I would have handed you to him. Now come!" With an angry swish of his wand, Severus broke the charms surrounding them and stalked off, listening carefully for the sound of her rubber-soled feet on the cobble-stones. He did not realise how worried he was that she would not comply until he heard her hurrying along behind him.

Severus took a sip of the admittedly delicious coffee; his second cup. He crossed his long, jean clad legs where he sat side on to the small round table and picked fastidiously at a non-existent spot over his knee. For the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes, he allowed his hooded eyes to roam past the plastic domed phone booth where Erin was standing rigid backed but trying to project relaxation for his benefit, knowing as she did, that he was watching. The fingers of her phone free hand were rubbing her forehead agitatedly and then running backwards through her thick, red hair.

The phone booth and the coffee shop were situated in that most offensive of modern Muggle developments, the shopping mall. Commercialism gone mad, and something Severus tried to ensure he never entered if he could possibly help it. But today, the crowds of Muggles offered anonymity and Severus felt much safer being inside. The Death Eaters he knew would not enter a mall randomly and he was positive that they had not been followed. Severus took another sip of coffee, and with his eyes roving about ceaselessly, he absently unwrapped the small chocolate that had accompanied his coffee and was probably the excuse the proprietors used to charge the exorbitant amount that they did for a cup of coffee that was certainly only worth about fifty pence.

He and Erin had left The Leaky Cauldron forty minutes earlier and Severus had stalked off along Charring Cross Road, his Muggle companion apparently still as fumingly angry after their confrontation in front of Gringotts, as he was himself.

They had re-entered the grubby pub with Erin still under the Disillusionment Charm and after they had crossed the scuffed and dusty wooden floor, Severus had stepped behind a brick pillar near the front door. He heard Erin stop very nearby, obviously reluctant to follow him behind the pillar. Severus had smirked nastily, glad to see that she was wary of his mood.

He could see the shimmering outline of her Disillusioned form because he knew that she was there, and his hand flashed out and grasped Erin’s arm in a firm grip above her elbow before she could skip out of arms reach.

“What are you…let me go!” Erin had said, trying to wrest her arm out of his determined hold. He had berated her for her foolishness and after reversing the charm, she had rubbed the top of her head and looked at him accusingly, as if she thought he had been unnecessarily rough.

Now, when Severus looked towards the phone booth again, he saw Erin move slightly so that her back was more firmly towards him. She still had the phone in her hand but it was no longer held tight to her ear. Severus was sure that the call had ended but she did not hang up the handset, and when he saw her raise her phone free hand to her face, he was sure she had finished her call and was trying to compose herself before returning to the table.

Severus really wanted to get out of here, but the human side of him saw that the girl probably needed a boost. He resigned himself to spending more time in this Muggle monstrosity and towards that end, he summoned a waitress and ordered another flat white for himself and a more frivolous cappuccino for his companion.

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Erin hung up the now dead handset, but kept her back to Severus. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. She dashed more tears from her face and lamented the lack of even a tissue. She had nothing, nothing but the clothes she was standing up in. Evil wizards had destroyed everything she owned, and except for circumstance, they would have destroyed her too, as they had dozens of her neighbours.

And he was one of them; this man…this wizard who was her appointed bodyguard, he was one of those animals. But Severus Snape had saved Harry last night, and Geppetto obviously trusted him. And though that horrible man, Selwyn had been a good fifteen feet from where she had been waiting under her Disillusionment charm, Erin had felt the evil emanating from him. Just his voice had made her shudder with revulsion.

Oh, certainly, the Black Prince infuriated her so much, she could happily tear her hair out and scream until her throat was raw, but he did not make her shiver with fear and loathing. He was sitting feet away now, obviously as put out with his surroundings as he was with the task that his boss had assigned him, but he was, none-the-less doing as he had been instructed…protecting her. There had to be an explanation as to why that Selwyn man knew the Prince and had spoken to him of ‘their master’ and why he had explained in gloating detail the task he and his fellow Death Eaters had performed for their boss the night before.

And then another snippet of that sinister conversation came back to her and Erin’s anxiety factor went up another notch. Taking a deep breath and scrubbing at her cheeks to make sure they were completely free of tears, she squared her shoulders and went to join the Prince.

Severus knew that she was walking towards him but he was studiously studying a Muggle newspaper—the Daily telegraph—that someone had left on the table when they had finished their coffee. There was a small sticker half covering the word ‘Daily’ indicating that the paper was the property of the coffee shop.

Erin sat down in the empty chair, her back stiff and her face partly averted, reluctant to look at him. Severus kept his eyes on the newspaper but he was not really reading anything, far too conscious of the woman opposite him. He told himself that he was only focused on her because he was worried that she would break down entirely in front of him, and the last thing he could cope with was a woman in tears. Hopefully, she was now fully composed after speaking to her parents.

Erin followed the movements of the tide of humanity passing by their little table, some stopping to look in shop windows, others entering or leaving the shops, but most passing by, no more interested in her and Severus than they were in the occupants of the tables around them. Some of the crowd looked purposeful, others vague. A group of teenage girls dressed in very revealing summer clothes walked past, their confidence in themselves and disdain of anyone not part of their little clique apparent from their loud and profane conversation and crude laughter. Erin saw Severus lower his paper and stare after the gaggle of half a dozen girls and she wasn’t surprised to see his lips thin with disgust. The lush young bodies, many acres of which were devoid of any kind of fabric covering, apparently did not attract the man at all. Erin was very glad to see it, but not really surprised. One of the overall impressions she had of the Black Prince was that he was more than a little prudish.

As Erin kept her eyes on the passers by, all intent on their own purpose, she wondered whether their was one other person beside herself within this huge glass and steel structure who knew of, or even suspected the existence of real, magical witches and wizards. Oh, she knew that there were ‘New Age’ folk around who called themselves witches and wizards, but she doubted that even they thought that there were people imbued with real fairytale type magic. Of course, Erin knew that there were Muggles who did know about the magical world…families of witches and wizards, but they of course kept quiet because who would ever believe them anyway? She herself had known of their existence for less than twenty-four hours—had seen magic first hand—and she still felt as if she was living in a dream.

Erin was idly wondering why she and the Prince were still sitting there; she had expected him to want to leave immediately she had finished her call, but a moment later, she had her answer when a waitress set a cappuccino down in front of her and a flat white in front of Severus. Erin looked at him with raised eyebrows as he cast the paper aside.

“I thought you would probably need a pick-me-up after your call,” he said with careless unconcern, picking up his cup and sipping the brew within. Erin was surprised but she could not bring herself to say thank you. She found it difficult to be grateful for this one small act of thoughtfulness when he had made absolutely no effort to be pleasant all day. She knew that he was only here with her under sufferance. There was also that conversation she had heard and the familiarity—albeit hostile—she had seen between the Prince and that Selwyn man.

After sugaring her coffee and taking a sip—it was delicious—Erin unwrapped the small chocolate and popped it in her mouth. Closing her eyes and trying to throw off the tension of the last fifteen painful minutes, Erin savoured the rich, velvety smoothness on her tongue. When the last particle of chocolate had flowed down her throat, she opened her eyes to find the Prince staring intently at her mouth over the top of his raised cup.

Erin felt the colour bloom in her cheeks and she picked up her cup and took a hasty sip to hide the blush. What on Earth was he looking at, she wondered, flustered. Behind the protection of her own cup, Erin glared at Severus. If he was embarrassed about having been caught staring, it was not apparent as he continued to sip his drink.

“Have I got something on my face, Professor Snape?” she snapped.

Severus raised his eyebrows, and the slight quirk of his lips told Erin that he was amused by her embarrassment. “Not that I can see , Miss Hanson. But if you are concerned about your appearance, there is a female toilet just down there.” He gestured with his head towards a narrow alleyway between two shops where a sign indicated the presence of male and female facilities.

“I am not worried about my appearance, as you well know,” Erin said angrily, putting her cup back in it's saucer with a loud clink of china. It was time to put Severus Snape back in his box! “What I am worried about is how you knew that man you were talking to at the bank. He was one of the men who would have killed Harry, and he seemed to know you very well indeed.”

‘The wizarding world is not particularly large, Miss Hanson. It is almost impossible to venture out…”

“There was more to it than just a chance meeting of casual acquaintances,” Erin hissed. “You brought up the excursion into the Muggle world, not him and you spoke of ‘our master’. You work for him too, don’t you? You work for that evil man who ordered the attack on Privet Drive.

“Shh. Keep your voice down!” bit out Severus, and Erin realised belatedly that she was nearly shouting. A couple of women at the table nearest them looked up curiously. She reddened slightly, and putting her elbows on the table, she leaned towards him. And though she spoke at a more sedate volume, her tone was no less angry.

“You disappeared suddenly last night, just after Harry started writhing around and screaming in agony. You’re his doctor and yet you left him suffering. Were you being summoned by some magical means or other? Because it certainly seemed as if both you and Mr Selwyn had been at the same venue last night.’

Severus mimicked her and leaned forward. There faces were now barely six inches apart and Severus spoke in a low hiss.“ Quite the little detective, aren’t you?” The words were not a compliment. “But your conclusions whilst not strictly erroneous are also far from correct. You have been thrust into what must seem a very bizarre world, Miss Hanson, and you have met quite a few different people since you awoke at Hogwarts. And though you have had innocuous charms cast upon you—for no other reason than to make you listen when you were bordering on the hysterical—you have not been hurt.

“And when I cast charms upon you today, I either asked your permission, or I warned you beforehand. On both occasions, the charms were for your own protection.

“You have to decide whether you want to trust the people with whom you have been associating since you found yourself among us.” He looked at Erin pointedly. ‘And if you find that too difficult, perhaps you should remember that Harry Potter is one of us, and though he and I are not what you might call friendly, he trusts Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall and Remus Lupin implicitly.

“Albus Dumbledore is more than just the headmaster of Hogwarts. It would take far too long to go into his prodigious history, but suffice to say, that the only wizard alive today who is anywhere near to him in magical ability, is the Dark Lord. Dumbledore is the leader of all the adult witches and wizards you have met, including myself. And Albus Dumbledore trusts me implicitly.”

Erin listened to this lengthy speech with her eyes fixed firmly on her companion’s austere face and her hands wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. When Severus finished speaking she lowered her eyes to the rapidly cooling coffee. Automatically, she picked up her spoon and began to scoop off the froth and spoon it into her mouth.

She knew that what the Prince said was true. After she had gotten over her initial shock at finding herself in the company of wizards, it had not taken her long to see that Albus Dumbledore was held in very high esteem by all of the others, and not just because of his venerable age. She had also seen that the respect shown Dumbledore by the Prince was overlaid with affection. It had been easy to spot this actually because Severus Snape had been nothing but acerbic with everyone else, except perhaps Minerva on occasion.

But even in the short time that Erin had been a witness to the relationship between Geppetto and the Prince, it had been obvious that Geppetto did trust the Prince. And the Prince had saved Harry, first from the injuries inflicted by his uncle and then from the Death Eaters.”

She came to the conclusion that if Severus Snape was in the employ of this Dark lord, he had had plenty of opportunity to hand both Harry—who was very much at the centre of this fight between good and evil—and herself over to him and his henchmen. And though she knew that there was more to the situation than that, she decided belatedly that a little prudence would serve her well for the time being. She could come back to the subject at a later time. After all, she couldn’t just forget that she had heard that telling conversation on the steps of the bank.

“Harry says that you hate him. And you are certainly antagonistic towards him. I wonder why when…”

Severus abruptly withdrew back across the table. He sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and a very sour look on his face. “My relationship with Potter is not open for discussion Miss Hanson. Now, I suggest we discuss what is next on today’s agenda as I wish to get back to Hogwarts before midnight. I do have an important potion that I need to be getting on with. I believe you wish to access your savings.”

Erin was frustrated at being denied information again, and she glared at her companion who was totally indifferent to her irritation. But then she seemed to wilt in her chair. What right did she have to any answers? She had only known Harry for a few days, and the state of his relationships with his teachers was certainly none of her business. Still, she did care for Harry and she was very worried about him, and it seemed that her fate, for the time being at least, was inextricably interwoven with his.

The terrible relationship with his Muggle family notwithstanding, it seemed, from what she had been able to glean, that the poor boy’s life had been imbued with drama for a very long time. She was desperate to know why Harry Potter, a seemingly normal teenager, was so very important.

“Miss Hanson?” An irate voice recalled Erin to her surroundings and she looked at Severus hopelessly.

“I do need my money but I have absolutely no idea how to go about getting any in the short term. I have lost all of my cards and my ID and I’m sure I will need to get Statutory Declarations filled out and signed, and all of that will take time.”

She gestured at her clothes. “I can’t live in these for however long it takes to be able to get to my money.” And much to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears that overflowed straight away. “Oh, bollocks!” she groaned and plonking her elbows on the table, she covered her face with her hands and tried, ineffectually to stem the flood.

The conversation with her mother and father and their absolute horror at the loss of their home and their worry for her wellbeing washed over her again. Of course, they had wanted to come home immediately, but Erin’s fears had been fully activated by Dumbledore and his dire predications of just how much this Lord Voldy-whatsit would be determined to find out who she was because she had escaped his purge of Privet Drive, and because she seemingly had something to do with Harry. If her parent’s came home, they might be in danger too. She couldn’t stand the thought of that.

She had sensibly pointed out that there was no point in their coming home because there was now nothing to come home to. So, they had insisted she come back to Australia and she had promised that she would, just as soon as she was able to get her papers and her passport organised. Her father had insisted that he come back to England to help her do everything that needed doing, but she had somehow talked him out of it, lying and telling him that she was staying with friends who would be able to help her. They had pushed for the name of her friends and she had made one up, along with a phone number—she couldn’t give the names of any of her old friends from Essex, because her parents knew all of them and they would know how to contact them.

She had finished the call with her mother’s pathetic sobs ringing in her ear and at that time, all she had wanted was to be able to get on a plane and fly out to Australia, away from this horrible nightmare that she had found herself at the very centre of. It was the most sensible course of action, even though the thought of leaving Harry distressed her enormously and she wasn’t quite sure why. He obviously had people in the magical world who cared for him greatly.

But though she didn’t want to leave him, she knew that she couldn’t stay in his world either. She couldn’t expect Professor Dumbledore to be responsible for her safety for longer than it took to organise her passport and buy her ticket to Australia. But to do that, she needed the freedom to come and go as she pleased to see to the necessary legalities and to that end, it was impractical for her to stay at Hogwarts.

Surely the anonymity of being part of the human tide that ebbed and flowed in London would protect her from the Death Eaters. She would be just one more face amongst hundreds of thousands. And if she could get some money, she would be able to stay in some cheap hotel that did not worry about such mundane matters as establishing a person’s bona fides.

Where did one go to start the process of re-establishing their identity? The police? And wouldn’t they want to know where she had been since last night? God, this was a bloody nightmare!

“Please pull yourself together, Miss Hanson. It is my profound observation that tears are always superfluous to needs. Here.” She felt something brush against the back of her hands where they were still clamped over her wet face. With a sniff, she uncovered her face and swiped at the salty moisture.

“Take it, woman,” Severus said again, with a long-suffering sigh. He was holding a perfectly clean, folded handkerchief out to her across the table. She hesitated for a moment, and then snatched the pristine white square of cotton from his hand. When she had mopped up the worst of her tearful excesses, she balled the handkerchief up in her hand and sniffed again.

“So, are you composed enough to continue?” Severus asked, the fingers of one hand drumming out an impatient tattoo on the table.

Erin cleared her throat. “I know you’re eager to return to the castle, Professor Snape. And if you can lend me some of that money you got from your goblin bank, I won’t hold you up any longer.” Severus stared at her with one eyebrow raised in question.

“I’m grateful for your assistance in getting me to London, I really am. But there isn’t much point in you hanging around anymore. I know you would rather be anywhere than here with me, so, if you can lend me the money, I promise I will pay you back.

“Getting away from the very real problem of how you would return to Hogwarts without me and also the very real problem of my certain demise at the hands of Albus Dumbledore if I was to return without you in tow, why would you need to borrow my money when you can use your own. You said you have savings.”

“I do have savings. But it will take days, possibly even weeks before I can access it. I need a change of clothes now and I have to be able to pay for a hotel room.”

“You will not need a hotel room because you are coming back to Hogwarts.”

“Professor Snape, I have things to do that will require me to be in London far too often to be convenient for you or any other wizard or witch to have to accompany me backwards and forwards.

“So, you have decided to go it alone and eschew our protection?”

“Professor Snape, I am grateful but I know that you at least do not think that I should be at Hogwarts. Minerva expressed the same sentiments in the beginning…”

“And yet, Professor Dumbledore insisted that you were to stay. And his word is law. And though having Muggles within the castle is not a common occurrence, it is not unheard of. Muggle parents occasionally need to come to the school, though it is usual for someone from the staff to go to them. We cannot, however, refuse them admittance and Dumbledore is particularly adamant that the parents of Muggleborns be allowed access to their child’s school if they wish it.”

Erin did not want to hear any of this. She had made up her mind not to return to the castle and Harry and he wasn’t making it easy to stick to her resolve. “My parents and my brother want me to return to Australia. I think it is the most sensible thing to do. I’m sure your Lord Thingy won’t look for me there.”

“There is no telling exactly what Lord Thingy will take it in mind to do. And Australia would certainly not be beyond his reach, and if he has taken it in mind that you are a prime target and he finds out that you have left the country, he will come after you.”

Erin swallowed. “But just because his men saw me…I find it hard to believe that he would care.”

“He saw you in Potter’s room, Miss Hanson. He will assume that you have a connection to Potter. Potter is very well protected and if the Dark Lord can't get directly to him, he will want to use you as leverage. He knows Potter and he knows that the boy would stupidly give himself up to save any of those that he cares for. Idiotic Gryffindor!”

The last was a mumble and Erin didn’t quite catch it. “And you’re trying to tell me that the Dark Lord will assume all of this because a couple of his henchmen saw me?”

“Saw you in Potter’s room, being protected by a member of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“The Order of…”

“The Order of the Phoenix is the organisation that Dumbledore formed to fight the Dark Lord. Our Ministry is, shall we say working to the beat of a different drum when it comes to trying to apprehend the most evil wizard the wizarding world has ever known.”

“But why? Surely his apprehension should be their main priority.’

“There is far to much to go into Miss Hanson with regards to the Dark Lord. It is all tied up with Harry Potter and though the boy has been the bane of my existence for the last five years…” Erin’s chin went up a notch. “even I can see that he needs as much moral support as he can get. He will be busy blaming himself for the deaths of his aunt and cousin and all of the residents of Privet Drive. They will just be added onto the tally, I am afraid.’

Erin went pale and Severus continued relentlessly. “The boy needs all the support he can get and he seems to have latched onto you. Would you deny him?”

Erin looked like she wanted to cry again. “That’s emotional blackmail,” she whispered.

Severus stood up, pleased with his work but surprised by his passionate defence of James Potter’s son. He must be going soft in his old age. Or perhaps seeing Potter in the terrible state his uncle had left him had brought home that he had been suffering under at least one misconception about the Boy Who Lived and that perhaps there were more.

There was no getting away from the fact that he was a cheeky little snot, however.

“Come along, Miss Hanson, we need to get to a branch of your bank.

8888

Two hours later, Erin was juggling several plastic bags full of shopping and trotting along behind a wizard who had become more and more irate the longer she had spent purchasing the bare minimum of clothing and toiletries that she could reasonably manage with.

Erin had spent less than three-quarters of an hour shopping. The fact that she had been able to do so at all was entirely thanks to the Prince. She had explained her circumstances to a bank clerk, and by giving her full name and her birth date and address, the woman had brought her account up on the computer, but she had refused to allow Erin to access her account without the requisite Statutory Declarations that had to be produced in these circumstances.

That is until Severus Snape had stepped in and cast a surreptitious Imperious Curse on the woman and she had then done everything he ordered her to do…which was to close Erin’s current account. They had discussed the course of action Erin should take on the way to the bank and concluded that it would be easier to remove all her money now and open a new account at a later time when she had become an official person again. In the meantime, she would have the use of her money.

When Erin dropped a couple of bags and cursed softly, Severus turned around. He rolled his eyes as he watched her scrambling around picking up several items that had scattered across the pavement.

“You could help me,” she said irritably and Severus put out a foot to stop a can of deodorant from rolling any further. Erin finished scrambling around and shoved everything back into the bag. “Thank you so much, Professor Snape,” she said pseudo-sweetly. I’m so glad you didn’t get down on your hands and knees. I would have been devastated if you had broken a fingernail!”

Severus ignored her rant and took the bags from her. He crossed to the blank façade of a brick wall and stood facing it. Erin stared at his back in puzzlement and when he turned back to her a few seconds later, he was putting something into his pocket and her shopping had disappeared. She mouthed a silent “where?” but Severus took her arm and hustled her along.

“Come along Miss Hanson. Your shopping is safe. We have completed the tasks we set out to do and so we can now return to Hogwarts. Erin could see she was being dragged back towards Charring Cross Road. Severus ignored her pleas to slow down and when Erin recognised the book shop and the music shop between which the wizard pub was squeezed, she finally pulled her arm free and planted her feet stubbornly.

She had been thinking about a specific course of action since she had decided that she would return to Hogwarts. Now she looked defiantly into Severus’s annoyed face. “I want to go to Little Whinging to see if my cat is alive,” she said in a rush.

As expected, Severus looked at her as if she was totally deranged. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he bit out angrily. “It is totally out of the question.”

She had thought about it carefully and she now presented her argument. “You said that your Ministry are now in control of the area, so that must mean that the Death Eaters have well and truly left. And the last thing they would be expecting would be for me to turn up. And if you made us invisible again…”

“No!” The denial was succinct and unequivocal. Erin could see it was useless but she crossed her arms and stood her ground none-the-less.

“I want my cat!”

Severus thrust his face to within an inch of hers. Erin could smell a tantalising trace of sandalwood aftershave and a hint of cinnamon and coffee on his breath. She took a hurried step back, a little disconcerted that she could be distracted so easily when she was determined to talk him around to her way of thinking.

“You are willing to risk your own safety for a bloody cat! Are you absolutely barking mad?” Severus was livid.

“No,” she answered reasonably, trying very hard to keep her temper because she knew it wouldn’t do her cause any good to antagonise him further. “I know that if Pumpkin is alive, she will be near where the house was. She doesn’t wander. If you just made us both invisible, it will only take a few minutes to locate her.”

“No.”

“Please!”

“No!”

Erin’s eyes narrowed. “I think people might look at you askance if you were to drag me unconscious onto that bus, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I will have to resort to stunning you, Miss Hanson. You saw what I did to the bank teller, did you not? It will be absolutely no effort to do something similar to you and you will follow my lead quite docilely.

Erin was so angry, she wanted to scream. If she was willing to take the chance, why wouldn’t he? It would be dark, they would be all but invisible and the chances of there being any of the enemy in the vicinity was miniscule. And her cat was very possibly still alive.

“I am not usually one to resort to bad language Professor Snape, but for you I’ll make an exception. You are an absolute shit!” She held out her hand. “Give me my shopping,” she ordered and Severus was reluctantly amused by her belligerence and her nerve. Not many people continued to defy him when he was so obviously not in the mood to tolerate any more argument. And as for her definition of bad language…well, he had heard much worse amongst students as young as first years—Slytherin first years, admittedly—and they had been punished for their foul mouths. He didn’t think he could hand out a punishment to Erin Hanson. But in his minds eye, a sudden, vivid image of a pert, jean clad backside uppermost across his thighs and his hand descending upon it with enough force to make her squirm, forced itself to the forefront of his brain.

It did little to improve his mood.

“Enough of this!” he hissed and without further ado, and without considering the full consequences of his actions, he grabbed Erin’s arm and pulled her roughly into his embrace, clamping her to his chest so that her face was pressed into his sandalwood-scented neck. For a second or two, her mind went blank—how she loved that smell—but then reality reared it's ugly head again and she opened her mouth to demand release. But the words were caught in her throat and she did not have time to begin to struggle, before Severus turned on the spot and disappeared before the eyes of a couple Muggles, both of whom stopped dead in their tracks and stared at the spot where they were sure an amorous couple had been snogging seconds before. After a few seconds, they looked surreptitiously at each other before looking down at their feet and hurrying off in opposite directions—one to catch the train home and the other to head for the pub to meet up with his mates, and both putting the strange apparition down to the stress of a long day at work.

When Severus and his passenger popped back into existence, the gate of Hogwarts were mere feet away. Severus staggered and though he tried to lower Erin to her feet, he was aware that she ended up on her knees before he staggered to the gates, holding on while he tried to catch his breath and waited for the world to right itself. He heard Erin vomiting but he could not go to her at the moment, if he moved he might vomit himself and he would certainly fall over.

God, what an idiotic thing to do. He deserved this discomfort for allowing his temper to override his good sense. He had told her earlier why it was not a good idea to Apparate with a Muggle.

Severus leaned against the gate for at least five minutes before he felt enough in control to open his eyes to see what had become of his travelling companion. It could have been worse for him, he supposed. Erin Hanson was a slight woman so the drain on his magic was not as bad as it could have been. He was feeling close to normal already but he would be taking a dose of Pepper-Up Potion when he returned to his rooms.

Erin was lying on her side next to the puddle of vomit. He noted that the vomitus was mostly bile. She must have retched long and hard, but he was not surprised. Severus knelt on one knee beside her and took her shoulder to turn her onto her back.

“Don’t!” Erin panted, as soon as she felt his hand and Severus was relieved. At least she had not passed out, though her eyes were tightly closed.

“We need to get up to the castle, Erin. We can’t stay here all night.”

“If I move, I’ll be sick again.” She stopped to take a couple of rapid breaths. “Everything is spinning around and I can't seem to get my breath.” More panting.

Severus dipped his head, the weight of guilt unfamiliar and unwelcome on his shoulders. “I should have considered my precipitate move more thoroughly before Apparating with you. I am sorry.”

Erin didn’t answer and he knew that if he tried to carry her up to the school, he would end up in a bed in the hospital wing as Lupin had last night—Poppy would insist on it—and if he levitated her, her dizziness and nausea would only increase. There was nothing for it. He drew his wand.

“Stupefy!”

And for the second time, in less than twenty-four hours, Erin Hanson was gently lowered onto the bed in the hospital wing that she had occupied the night before. This time though, she had been levitated the whole distance and though not as physically exhausting as carrying her would have been, Severus obviously wasn’t as recovered as he had thought and he collapsed, practically boneless, into the chair that Poppy Pomfrey had quickly spelled into position behind him.

He caught a glimpse of Potter’s appalled face as the boy levered himself up on his pillows before Poppy spelled the screen around the two new occupants of her hospital wing.

“Severus Snape, what has happened?” she demanded in her usual brisk, no-nonsense manner.

“Side along Apparition,” answered Severus succinctly, too tired to elaborate further. He didn’t have to. Poppy had been caught up on all the recent happenings and she knew that this was the Muggle woman she had heard so much about from Minerva. And she knew full well, the effects of Side Along Apparition on Muggles.

“I had to stun her to get her up here without upsetting her equilibrium even more.” Poppy clucked her tongue and after making sure that Erin was stable for the moment, she turned to Severus. He forestalled her questions.

“I am fine. Just tired. All I need is a dose of Pepper-Up Potion.”

“I will be the judge of that Severus Snape, and before Severus could object further, the infuriating witch had spelled his Muggle top off and was moving her wand across his chest.”

“Poppy…”

“Shut up, Severus and let me do my job.” And rather than arguing, he subsided, but only because he was too tired to argue.

Bare feet padding across the floor outside the curtain drew his attention however. “Madam, Pomfrey. What’s wrong with Erin?” came Harry’s worried voice.

“Potter!” roared Severus, making Poppy jump a foot into the air. “Did I not tell you this morning not to get out of that bed for anything other than toilet privileges?”

“Severus!” admonished Poppy quietly. That is no way to speak to a convalescing boy.

“He is bloody incapable of doing what he’s told,” he grouched to Poppy’s back as she swept around the screen to guide Harry back to bed. He heard Harry arguing all the way back to the bed and Poppy’s reassurances that Erin was not hurt, but was suffering the effects of being transported by Apparition.

Severus was too tired to even be sour that the boy was having things that were none of his business explained to him, and he wasn’t going to suffer Poppy’s tender ministrations any longer. He pulled the top back over his head, ripping the leather thong from his hair in frustration and shoving into the pocket of his jeans.

Poppy saw Severus appear from behind the screen and head towards the door. “Professor Snape,” she called exasperatedly.

Severus raised his hand in farewell and without turning around, he called back over his shoulder, “I will see you later Poppy. I’m going to rest in my own quarters.” And he trudged out the door with her muttered, “stubborn idiotic Slytherin Potions Masters,” ringing in his ears and the feel of Potter’s hostile gaze boring into his back.

Severus threw himself fully clothed onto his bed, deciding that he would sleep for as long as his body dictated, and then he would take the Pepper-Up Potion when he awoke. He had a job to do and he was not going to find himself at anything less than par whilst he was about it.

8888

Erin came back to the land of the living by slow degrees. She moved to stretch and the merest trace of queasiness made her freeze, the memory of the terrible nausea and dizziness that had recently assailed her, frightening her into lying still. She was even too frightened to open her eyes.

She heard a chair being pushed back near the bed she was lying in and then a soft weight landed on her stomach. She held her breath, but when the weight shifted and she heard loud purring, Erin’s eyes flew open. Little paws padded across up her chest and then a little black head butted her chin and began to rub enthusiastically at the space between her chin and neck, a raspy little tongue flicking out to lathe her earlobe.

Her hands flew up and grasped the precious, little black body under her front legs and held her up so that they were staring at each other, orange eyes into teary green.

“Pumpkin,” she whispered in a choked voice. “I knew you were alive. Oh, you beautiful, beautiful girl.” Pumpkin squirmed in Erin’s hold and she lowered her back to her chest, where the cat went back to her head rubbing, making up for lost time. Erin ran her hand along the long length of her fluffy tail and she smiled at the boy who was sitting beside her, grinning broadly.

“We were getting acquainted again while we waited for you to wake up,” said Harry. The cat’s purrs had increased in volume and Erin could feel the vibrations all the way down her throat into her chest.

“How did she get here, Harry?” asked Erin, reaching over and grasping his hand where it rested on the covers.

“Professor Snape,” said Harry. “He brought her in about an hour ago. He gave her to me though. He said to let you sleep until you woke up by yourself. Who’d believe he was capable of two good deeds?” he asked, still amazed as he remembered how his professor had strode into the hospital wing just after dawn with a very relaxed, furry black bundle in the crook of his arm from which two orange eyes blinked sleepily. The cat had been purring as loudly as she was now. “Saving me and then saving Pumpkin.”

Snape had seen that Erin was still asleep, so seeing that Potter was awake, he had crossed to his bed and plonked the amazingly docile animal on Harry’s chest. “You will keep this animal entertained until her mistress awakes, Potter. Do not, under any circumstances wake her beforehand, is that clear?” and he had swept from the room.

Erin now buried her face against the cat’s flank where Pumpkin had decided to plonk herself down in regal splendour across Erin’s throat. “Yeah,” she whispered into the black fur. “Who’d believe?”

Erin left the bathroom in the hospital wing and approached her bed with a bundle of clothes in one hand and a plastic bag weighted down with the few toiletries she had purchased in the other. She had just had a shower and was now wearing the new jeans she had bought, along with a modest round-necked, long sleeved knit shirt in a mint-green colour and a new pair of trainers. All of the clothing had been pulled off racks and shelves in a discount department store in about twenty minutes flat and though everything fitted and was comfortable, nothing was very expensive, or very fancy.

She placed the bag and clothes on her bed and then joined Harry, her face breaking into a smile when she heard him laugh. Madam Pomfrey had found him sitting beside Erin’s bed earlier and she had sent him back to his own, saying it was Professor Snape’s orders that he remain in bed for a while longer. His enforced bed rest definitely rankled, but at the moment he was happy because he was playing with Pumpkin. The cat was sitting on her hind legs on Harry’s chest, pawing at the air, batting at a length of red ribbon that Harry was dangling from his fingers.

“You’ve really bonded,” said Erin, her smile widening at the sight of the black cat and the black haired boy. She sat down on the side of the bed and leaned forward to muss Harry’s hair. She ignored the fact that Harry’s cheeks reddened following her gesture. Pumpkin finally grasped the narrow length of ribbon between her front paws and she lowered herself onto her haunches, chewing her prize but finding it wanting; she discarded it and butted her head against Harry’s hand instead.

“She’s great,” said Harry, tickling the cat under her chin. “I love Hedwig and all, but you can’t really play around with an owl.”

“Talking about Hedwig, Harry. Has she turned up yet?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, she turned up yesterday while you were in London. She had a letter from my friend Ron Weasley. I suppose after…after…” he stopped and swallowed past the lump that was suddenly blocking his throat. “After she got back from her hunting and found Privet Drive reduced to rubble, she went to the Burrow looking for me.”

Erin squeezed his hand where it lay on the cover. “The Burrow?”

“Yeah. That’s where the Weasleys live. It's the name of their house. It’s in Devon and I’ve stayed there before, so that’s why she would have gone there looking for me.” Harry was now twirling Pumpkins discarded ribbon between his fingers, keeping his eyes studiously away from Erin’s face.

“Where is she now?” asked Erin.

“In the owlery. She only stayed for five minutes, to give me Ron’s letter and make sure I was OK. It’s a long flight from Devon.”

“You think?” said Erin in an exaggeratedly sarcastic voice. She wanted the happy Harry back, even though she knew that that elevated frame of mind would probably be temporary. She felt pleased to see Harry grin. They talked together for about fifteen minutes while Pumpkin, fed up with trying to commandeer their whole attention, jumped lightly to the floor and started to explore the hospital wing.

Wanting to get Harry’s mind off of recent, horrific events, she asked him about Hogwarts: how big it was, how many students attended, how many teachers there were, and anything else she could think of. Harry volunteered the fact that there were four houses, what they were named and who the heads of house were. He also told her a potted history of the four brilliant wizards and witches from a thousand years ago, who actually built and founded Hogwarts. They had established the four houses…each named for one of the founders, and the students of each selected if they had the characteristics that each founder took particular pride in.

Erin thought the whole thing sounded pretty arbitrary, and would make for some rather intense interhouse rivalries. The witch with the strange name…Helga something or other, sounded like the only one of the four who had any concern at all for the healthy psyches of her students. She had not discriminated. She took anyone, regardless of their personality traits. When she pointed this out to Harry, he looked slightly offended, but nonetheless, he said he could see her reasoning but all the same, he was really glad that he was in Gryffindor because it was definitely the best house.

“If you really want to learn about Hogwarts, I can lend you ‘Hogwarts: A History’. It’s one of our text books.”

“That’d be great,” enthused Erin. Although she had grabbed a couple of paperback books in the department store, she couldn’t imagine anything that would be more interesting than learning about the history of this fascinating castle. No doubt it would be the same as reading a fantasy novel.

“It’s in my trunk there,” said Harry, pointing to the slightly battered trunk sitting at the end of his bed. It looked like a very old fashioned travelling trunk that might once have been used by passengers on an ocean cruise. When she opened the trunk, she was shocked at the state that the contents were in. It looked as though everything had been thrown in pell mell, and Harry, who was adhering to the strictures to stay in bed—or more specifically, on the bed—had crawled to the end, where he gazed down at the mess. He raised appalled eyes to Erin’s face, his own face becoming a deeper crimson by the second.

He had forgotten what a mess it was. Uncle Vernon had thrown it straight into the cupboard under the stairs and Harry had not even been able to retrieve his clothes to wash. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’d forgotten what a mess it is.”

All of Harry’s clothes—his school robes, and uniform, underwear and socks, Dudley’s old, ill- fitting cast offs and revolting worn trainers, and his own properly fitting black leather lace-ups were an untidy, hotchpotch. His school bag had just been thrown on top of the mess of fabric and detritus, the flap open so that most of the contents had spilled into the trunk. Quills, broken and whole, bottles of ink which, thankfully had remained sealed, several rolls of parchment, his copies of ‘The standard Book of Spells, Grade 5’ and ‘One Thousand and One Magical Herbs and Fungi’, rested mostly on top of the mess.

The contents had a musty, pungent aroma, reminiscent of a cess pit that a teenage boy might live in. The trunk had obviously not been open for a long time. All of the clothes needed laundering. Erin leaned over the trunk and picked up a fine, tapered length of beautifully carved wood. Around the thick end—the handle end—the carvings depicted dancing flames and the tapering length was etched with what looked like a long feather.

Erin looked at Harry. “This is your wand?” she asked softly. Harry nodded and Erin passed him the beautiful work of art. Harry took it in a slightly shaky hand. He stared at it like a man dying of thirst would look at a long, cool glass of water. Erin saw a look of relief pass over his face. His features seemed to relax by degrees as he turned the wand in his fingers. Erin jumped a little when a shower of red sparks shot out of the end with a sound like a sparkler.

“Sorry.” Harry loosened his grip a little. “That always happens when I haven’t had my wand for a while. My magic needs an outlet.

This was the first proof that Erin had seen that Harry was indeed a wizard. It just seemed so incredible to her that the teenage boy she had first seen in his relative’s front garden working like a navvy, badly sunburned and with a bruised face could do similar things to the adults she had met in this universe. It made her fleetingly wonder if she might perhaps have met other wizards or witches during her lifetime and not known it.

“It’s beautiful,” said Erin, inclining her head towards the wand. Harry nodded again. He looked down at the mess inside his trunk. He pointed is wand and said, “Accio ‘Hogwarts: A history’.” And to Erin’s shock, a book that had been out of sight under the surface layer of clothes, shot upwards and Harry caught it deftly.

He passed it to Erin. “Much easier than delving amongst that lot,” he said. “Strictly speaking, I’m not supposed to use magic outside of school. If I was at Privet Drive, the Ministry would know and I’d get a warning.” He scooted back against his pillows and carefully put his wand on the bedside cabinet. “Actually,” he said softly, his eyes remaining fixed on his wand, and h “God knows what they would try and do to me this time. ‘Hogwarts: A History’ is hardly a couple of Dementors, is it? And I think they would have chucked me in Azkaban last year if they could have.

“Fred and George told me that if you live where there are adult witches and wizards and you do magic, the Ministry can’t tell who’s performed the magic. They rely on the adults to keep their kids under control.” He looked at Erin. “All the same, I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone I summoned the book. I just needed to use my wand. It’s been a while since I even held it and I figured there’s enough magic going on here all the time to disguise my Accio.”

Most of that little speech had been unintelligible to Erin, so it was easy to put Harry at his ease. “I won’t tell,” she assured him, watching as he slipped under the covers. He suddenly looked pale and tired. When he stifled a yawn, she decided to make herself scarce.

“I think you need some rest, Harry. It looks like Professor Snape was right to insist that you stay in bed for a while.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Professor Snape will tell you he’s always right,” he mumbled and Erin bit her bottom lip to try and stop herself grinning.

“Well, this time, he is right,” she said in a reasonable tone as Harry slid down the bed and got himself comfortable.

‘I’ll see you later, then.” Said Harry. Erin turned towards her bed and caught sight of her bundle of clothes. She turned back to Harry. “Before I go though, can you tell me where the laundry is?”

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, a frown on his face. He shook his head. “I have no idea. But I know someone who would.” He grinned and sat up straight again. “You’d better sit down,” he said, indicating the chair beside his bed. “Has anyone told you about house elves?”

Erin frowned. “Professor Dumbledore spoke of house elves yesterday. Tonks did as well. They prepare the meals and keep the rooms within the castle clean. I think they brought my freshly laundered clothes yesterday morning.”

“That’d be right,” said Harry. “They’re like servants. Hogwarts house elves are enslaved to the current headmaster, but that’s the way they like it. Well, most of them anyway. Dobby’s different. He’s happy to be free.”

Harry seemed to be babbling nonsense again but Erin suspected that it was more the fact that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. It all probably made sense to anyone magical.

“Now, don’t scream,” Harry was saying. “Dobby!”

Harry had not raised his voice at all but immediately he said ‘Dobby’, there was a loud, sharp crack, that made Erin jump with fright despite Harry’s warning.

The strangest little creature had just appeared out of thin air next to her chair. It was so ugly, it was somehow cute, with its gigantic green eyes and its very long needle nose and big bat ears. It was wearing layer upon layer of clothes…so many socks, its feet looked like boats and so many jumpers, it looked like a little round ball. But the strangest aspect of its garb was the tower of knitted hats it had on it's head. It was nearly as tall as the elf was itself. Erin couldn’t stop herself staring, almost with morbid fascination.

“Harry Potter is calling for Dobby, sir?” squeaked the little elf, almost beside himself with excitement. “What can Dobby do for the great Harry Potter, friend of all magical creatures.” Harry went crimson at this effusion but the delighted grin on Dobby’s face flickered and disappeared when he realised that his hero was not alone. His large ears drooped and he started to wring his little hands together whilst taking a couple of steps back. Harry dived into the breach of the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

“Dobby, this is Miss Hanson. She’s a friend of mine and she’s a guest here at the castle.”

Dobby, still looking grave, gave a ludicrously deep bow in Erin’s direction. “Dobby is pleased to be meeting another friend of Harry Potter’s,” he said in a more subdued squeak.

“Umm…it’s lovely to meet you Dobby.” Erin hoped that her shock was not evident in her voice. The little creature (was it a male? She thought it might be) was still looking very wary, but at Erin’s greeting, his great green eyes filled with tears and he looked at Harry with even more reverence than he had before. Erin wondered what had inspired so much devotion for Harry in the little creature. It was obvious that he worshipped the young boy.

“Miss Hanson is also a kind person, just like your Wheezy and Miss Mione, sir. Harry Potter would only have kind friends, sir.” Erin was totally bemused. Dobby shot a quick, concerned look at Erin and then he stepped closer to the bed and beckoned Harry to lean down to his level. He seemed to be very tense if the wringing of his hands was anything to go by. Harry shot an apologetic look at Erin, but he did lean down. “Does Harry Potter know that his friend is a Muggle, sir?” whispered Dobby.

Harry sat up straight again and tried not to laugh. He didn’t want to hurt Dobby’s feelings. Err, yes, Dobby. I do know that Miss Hanson is a Muggle. But that’s OK. Professor Dumbledore knows she’s a Muggle too.” Harry’s brow furrowed as he thought of something.

“But how did you know?” he asked, surprised.

“Miss Hanson has no magic, sir” squeaked Dobby, and he looked apologetically at Erin. “House elves can read a person’s magic, sir. Harry Potter has lots and lots of powerful magic, but Miss Hanson has none, sir.” The bat-like ears drooped even further.

“Don’t worry Dobby,” said Erin in a kind voice. “I came to terms with not having any magic a long time ago,” she lied. It was the right thing to do because Dobby smiled tremulously at her. Then he turned back to Harry, businesslike all of a sudden.

“Did Harry Potter want something of Dobby, sir?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Harry. “Umm Dobby, Miss Hanson wants to know where she can wash some of her clothes. Can you show her where the laundry is?”

Dobby looked scandalised. “Miss Hanson cannot be doing her own laundry, sir. Dobby will be taking her clothes and he will personally be doing it for her, sir. Dobby always washes Harry Potter’s clothes.” The little elf looked towards the still open trunk at the foot of the bed and wrinkled his nose. “Dobby will also take Harry Potter’s clothes and wash them now, if sir wishes.”

“Dobby,” said Erin, “I can’t let you do my washing. There isn’t very much to do. It’s really just a pair of jeans. I can hand wash the rest in my bathroom. Honestly, I just need a washing machine…” she tailed off. The little elf had crossed his arms and was looking quite determined. Though how he could cross his arms was beyond Erin. Dobby’s arms must be as skinny as his bony little legs were, but there were so many layers of clothing on his upper body, he looked like a little Michelin man.

“Dobby will be doing Miss Hanson’s laundry, miss. It is one of Dobby’s jobs and Dobby enjoys work, miss.”

“But…”

“Leave it,” said Harry warningly and Erin was a little surprised at the seriousness of his tone. She heeded him however and Dobby looked happier when Erin stopped insisting on doing her own laundry. Erin walked over to her bed and picked up her little pile of clothes. When she handed the bundle to Dobby, he took them from her with a toothy grin, as if there was nothing he would enjoy more in the world than to wash Erin’s dirty clothes.

Seeing Dobby with the clothes in his arms made Harry think of something. “Dobby, you can take the clothes because you’re a free elf. But you can’t do all the laundry at Hogwarts and you’ve only been here for two years anyway, so how do the other elves go about not touching clothes when they do the washing?”

Erin looked between Harry and Dobby. The conversation had descended into the realms of fantasy again. How many times now had a conversation started where she had absolutely no idea what anyone was talking about?

‘Oh, no Harry Potter, sir. Elves can be touching the clothes of anyone who is not their master, sir. The headmaster is the only one who cannot hand his clothes to the elves here at Hogwarts, sir. The headmaster used to send his robes to Hogsmeade to be cleaned.” The little elf gave a skip of pure joy. “But now that Dobby is here, sir, Dobby is doing the headmaster’s laundry. Dobby is very happy to be doing Professor Dumbledore’s laundry, sir, and he says that he has never had his robes looking so nice, sir.” His grin was toothier that ever.

“That’s great Dobby,” said Harry. “But if the other elves can touch any clothes within the castle, how come none of them would clean Gryffindor tower throughout the year when Hermione was leaving the hats out?”

Dobby’s ears drooped a little again. “They was insulted, sir. Miss Mione would not listen when she was told by the elves that they did not want to be free, sir.”

Harry nodded and pursed his lips. He was thinking that perhaps he should have told Hermione that her efforts in knitting the hats were wasted because she couldn’t set any elves free anyway, even if any of them had been so inclined. Still, Dobby seemed happy with his haul. He must have dozens more hats than were actually on his head at the moment, because Hermione seemed to have knitted hundreds.

Suddenly, Harry yawned and ran his hand through his untidy hair, mussing it even more. Erin realised that she had meant to leave the hospital wing and let Harry sleep fifteen minutes ago. The Prince wouldn’t thank her for not letting his patient rest.

“Umm, Dobby? Can I ask something else of you?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Would you be able to be my guide so that I don’t get lost on the way to my room. I’ve only been there once and I would hate to get lost. I know it’s on the sixth floor, not far from a painting of a rural scene of two horses grazing.”

Dobby gave a little skip of joy. “Dobby know where that painting is, miss. I can be taking you there now.”

“Thank you, Dobby.” She turned to Harry, who was now lying back looking quite bleary eyed. “I'm going to go now Harry and let you get some rest. Madam Pomfrey will be wanting to kick me out anyway.” And sure enough, at that very moment, the very precise matron came out of her office carrying a small tray with several phials resting on it. If she was surprised to see Dobby there, she gave no indication. She ignored him completely in fact, and Dobby quietly stepped away from Harry’s bed, suddenly seeming to blend in with the scenery.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hanson, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Mr Potter needs to have a rest before lunch.,” Poppy said briskly.

“Of course,” said Erin. “I was just going.” She crossed the aisle to collect her toiletries and another bag containing the rest of the new clothes she had bought yesterday and when she turned back, it was to see that Pumpkin had jumped back onto Harry’s bed and plonked herself down on his chest where she was grooming herself industriously. Harry just lay there with his hands behind his head, grinning at her antics and her lack of seemly modesty. The cat had obviously decided that she had discovered everything there was to discover in the hospital wing and that it was time for a wash, and Harry’s chest was just the place to perform her ablutions.

Poppy placed her tray on Harry’s bedside cabinet and when her hands were free, she scooped Pumpkin into her arms, ignoring the fact that she was clearly busy and ignoring her pathetic mewl that said she was not pleased to be disturbed. Erin was a little worried that the matron would voice her displeasure about the fact that her pet was on one of the hospital beds. But no. Poppy lifted Pumpkin to face level and stared into her pretty face, tickling her under her chin and talking nonsense to her. Finally, smiling, she tipped the cat into Erin’s waiting arms. “She’s a little darling,” said Poppy. “And she’s certainly made herself at home in a hurry.”

“I’m sorry that she’s in here,” said Erin. “But Professor Snape bought her in this morning. He had only just found her for me.”

“I realise that, my dear. And don’t worry. There are a lot of cats around the castle during the school year and a lot of them make their way in here. It is not something I encourage, but nor do I fight the inevitable. And sometimes someone’s pet is just the ticket to cheer that person up if they are in bed ill. Your little girl seems to have cheered Mr Potter up no end.”

Erin smiled at Harry. “Yes, Pumpkin has taken to Harry and he to her. I’ll know if I can’t find her for an extended period that she’ll probably be with him.”

Poppy leaned forwards on the pretext of tickling Pumpkin under the chin. The cat had settled happily in the safe, comfortable haven of Erin’s arms and was purring loudly, her eye half closed. “Just between you and me, I am glad something can bring the poor boy out of his fugue.”

Erin nodded her agreement. “So am I Madam Pomfrey. So am I.

Poppy became all brisk and businesslike again and turned back to her task. “Please, call me Poppy. We staff are pretty informal around here. Makes for a much friendlier atmosphere.” She had wrested the cork out of one of the small phials and handed it to Harry.

“Drink up Mr Potter,” she ordered briskly. “The quicker you take these, the quicker you can be resting.

Harry eyed the little purple bottle with distaste. “I was hoping I could leave this afternoon,” he grumbled. “I'm fine now.”

“Do many of your friends need to take naps midmorning, Mr Potter,” asked Poppy in her strictest voice.

Harry scowled. “I do not need a nap,” he denied hotly, even though it was obvious that he could hardly keep his eyes open. Madam Pomfrey raised a sceptical eyebrow. Harry wondered if the staff at Hogwarts had to take a course to learn the fine art of raising the intimidating eyebrow. There were some true exponents here, after all.

Poppy held out one phial of potion after another and grimacing past the different tastes, Harry swallowed them all down. He knew it would have been useless arguing because like Snape, she would only spell them straight into his stomach.

When Harry had finished, he threw himself back against his pillows again. God, he was so sick of everyone having more say about his life than he did himself. In three weeks time, he would be sixteen years old. Why did everyone insist on treating him like he was six.

Poppy’s face softened as she looked at the sullen teen in front of her. She started straightening his covers. “I am sure you will be allowed to leave here tomorrow, Harry. I will consult with Professor Snape this afternoon.”

If anything, this made Harry look even more miserable. “He’ll probably keep me in here until term starts, just to spite me,” he muttered.

“Now, Mr Potter…” Poppy had reverted to her usual brisk and no nonsense self after her lapse into compassion. “That will be enough of that sort of talk, young man.” She picked up her tray and prepared to return to her office.

“No doubt I will see you later, Miss Hanson,” she said as she swept past Erin.

“Yes,” said Erin. “And please Poppy, call me Erin.”

Poppy smiled in reply and disappeared into her office. Erin noted that she left her door open. There was no doubt that she was a conscientious carer who took her patient’s welfare seriously. Even if Harry was asleep, she would be able to hear him if he started dreaming.

Erin now brushed Harry’s hair back from his forehead. He was so used to her tactile attentions by now, he did not even mind that she had exposed his scar. “I’ll see you later, OK Harry.”

Harry nodded and Dobby, who had reappeared after Poppy’s departure, placed Erin’s small bundle of laundry on top of Harry’s soiled clothes and then with a wave of his hand, the whole lot disappeared, leaving nothing but the jumble of books, quills, ink, parchment, rubbish and shoes inside Harry’s trunk. Harry’s Firebolt was also there, wrapped in a couple of Hogwart’s towels to keep it safe.

Dobby then turned to Harry and bowed deeply to him before he followed Erin from the hospital wing. Harry sighed and removed his glasses. He rolled onto his side and was asleep within seconds.

8888

Severus was looking less than happy as he added a handful of finely shredded nettles to the quietly simmering cauldron before him. He then spelled the protective charm off his hand before picking up his stirring rod. While he stirred, he reached into a small glass dish and took up a very precise pinch of powdered moonstone which he then proceeded to sprinkle finely over the surface of the simmering, khaki coloured brew.

Albus sat quietly on a conjured stool and watched with admiration, the precision with which this amazingly talented potioneer attended the several brews he had on the go at once. Five cauldrons of varying sizes were set in a semi circle within which Severus stood. Behind him and at one end of which Albus sat, was a marble topped bench where several different piles of ingredients were set out with accompanying knives, spoons, mortars and pestles and measures.

Severus finished stirring and tapped the glass rod on the side of the cauldron, waiting patiently for every last drop to fall back into the simmering contents before he removed it and set it on the bench. Indeed, waiting for potions was the only waiting Severus did patiently.

Severus was looking less than happy because though he didn’t normally mind Albus being around while he brewed—the man was a more than competent potioneer himself and he knew when to stay silent—today the old man had impinged on his solitude to broach a subject that Severus found highly distasteful.

“There is little point in your hanging about any longer, Albus, the answer will be a resounding ‘no’, no matter if you sit there until the start of term.”

“But Severus, you must see the advantages to my idea. An intensive course…”

“It is not the idea I have objections to, old man. It is the way you wish to go about implementing it that I find abhorrent.”

“Severus. You are the perfect choice. You can straddle both worlds, which will be necessary…”

“And I told you yesterday that I loathe straddling both worlds. I am a wizard and I am quite happy living in the wizarding world. There is little cause for me to have anything to do with the Muggle world.”

“But surely, a young man such as yourself would appreciate being in the frequent company of such an attractive…”

Severus pointed the sharp blade of the silver dagger he had been slicing stewed daisy roots with at Albus. “Don’t even go there, old man. I am definitely not interested.”

“Severus! She’s young, she’s beautiful, she’s intelligent…”

“And she is not blind! Why would a woman like that ever look at a specimen such as myself?”

“You see her as being shallow?”

Severus added the daisy roots, one at a time, to another concoction from which a cloud of indigo steam was issuing. With each slice that was added, the steam became a little less dense and a little lighter in colour. “No, I see her as being eminently sensible. Even if she was prepared to see past the visage, she has been in my company quite enough to know just what an unpleasant person I am.” He wiped his hands clean of the daisy root juice and began to stir the cauldron, this time with a brass ladle.

“Opposites attract, Severus. And I might be old enough to be her great, great, great, great grandfather, but I also am not blind and I happened to see the young lady cast rather more than just the odd look at you.”

“You might not be blind, but you are definitely senile! She and I cannot be alone together for more than five minutes without jumping down each other’s throats.”

“As I just said, opposites attract, Severus.”

“Look. I would appreciate it if you would stop waffling about things that are not going to happen and which I have no desire to see happen.”

“Is it that she is a Muggle?”

Severus slammed the ladle down on the bench, flicking drops of potion in all directions. One drop hit a small pile of powdered acacia pods and they started to sizzle and hiss. Severus swore and with a wave of his wand, he banished the adulterated pods.

“If you wish there to be a reason other than the fact that I do not wish to embark upon a relationship with anyone, then by all means let the fact that she is a Muggle be it!

“And if I did wish to embark upon a relationship then I admit, I would prefer that it be with a witch.”

At Albus’s appraising look over the top of his half-moon spectacles, Severus bit out, “I do not have to tell you that I am the issue of just such an unequal marriage, Albus. My parent’s marriage is the reason that I have never sought a long term relationship. That and the fact that no sensible woman would look twice at me.

Albus shook his white head and stood, banishing the stool. “You keep on convincing yourself of that, my boy. You hold everyone at arm’s length because you are too impatient to work on a relationship.”

“I will not turn into one half of what my parents were!” bellowed Severus. “Now get out.” He pointed at the door with dramatic emphasis and Albus moved towards it.

“I will leave you in peace for now, Severus, but I beg you get used to the idea of tutoring Erin.” The old man was patience personified.

“She wants to go to Australia!”

“And you quite rightly told her that it is out of the question. She needs protection, and Harry will benefit greatly from her company.”

Severus rolled his eyes at this last declaration. “What! Are you telling me that the Golden Boy might yet turn into a human being if Miss Hanson works her charms on him?”

Albus had hold of the heavy iron door latch, but he half turned and peered over the top of his glasses again. “Do me the courtesy of not coming out with such ridiculous statements, Severus. When it comes to Harry, you seem incapable of reasoned thought. Or at least, you pretend to be.

“I know your opinion of Harry has undergone a radical turn around. Maybe not as far as I would like to see, but certainly enough for you to know that he is not the spoiled, much indulged son of doting parents that you seem to see him as. He is not James, Severus. Please try to keep that in mind.” Seething, Severus turned his back to Albus in curt dismissal.

Albus pulled the door open, only to be nearly rapped on the nose by an upraised fist. He fell back a step, as did his would be assailant.

“Oh! I'm so sorry!”

“Erin!”

Albus and Erin had both exclaimed together, and the intrusion of the new voice had Severus spinning around. He glared at the newly arrived person standing in his open doorway.

“My dear, how lovely to see you,” said Albus with genuine delight. “I take it you have recovered from your rather distressing return journey yesterday? ”

Erin, who was pleased to see that Geppetto looked much more vigorous today, grimaced slightly. “Yes, I'm fine now, thank you. But I never want to Apparate again. I don’t know how you stand it,” she said.

Albus tipped his head to one side and answered her seriously. “It is a sensation that takes a lot of getting used to, but magical folk can tolerate it much better than do Muggles, I am afraid.”

“Well,” Erin laughed. Give me a car any day of the week. It might take longer, but a car is much more comfortable than even that purple monstrosity of a bus. Do wizards have many different forms of transport?”

She laughed. “And are any of them at least partially comfortable?”

Albus’s eyes twinkled. “I am afraid that I am going to have to leave your education about magical means of transportation in other capable hands…” he gestured to Severus who threw him a filthy look. “I have many an official document on my desk awaiting my perusal and signature, I am afraid. I will be busy until much later. But I look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight. Until then, I bid you adieu.”

He took her hand and bowed over it in a courtly fashion and Erin, a little flustered, thought how delightfully old fashioned he was. She watched him disappear around a bend in the shadowed stone corridor that was lit only by flame torches in wall brackets…just what you would expect a castle dungeon to look like.

“Is there something I can do for you Miss Hanson?” asked Severus in a cold voice. He had just finished putting Stasis Charms on all of his potions. He certainly could not concentrate on managing them with her here, but as he had caught up with his work, he was not overly concerned at the delay. Though he would certainly not let her know that. “And just as a matter of interest, how did you find your way down here?”

Erin smiled tentatively before stepping into the large, brightly lit room. Like the corridor, it was built of unlined dark stone walls. Even the ceiling was stone. There were no windows and Erin could not understand where the bright light was emanating from. There were no torches or lanterns or candles in here. And it went without saying that there were no electric lights anywhere.

A long marble-topped bench took up one long wall, and a stainless steel bench took up another. The rest of the wall space was encircled by row upon row of shelves laden with glass bottles and jars of different colours, wooden and onyx and ivory containers and marble urns. The clear containers were mostly filled with powders or liquids but a small section of shelving housed specimen jars with horrible dead creatures suspended in different coloured solutions in them. She didn’t look too closely, but the quick glance she allowed herself was enough to tell her that she could not recognise one single animal. Not surprising really, most of them had been dissected before they were plunged into their various preserving solutions. Some of the jars did not contain whole animals either; there was one large jar that looked as if it was filled with eyes of differing sizes and colours and another with black, leathery things that Erin finally decided looked like bat wings. These were not suspended in solution, but looked shrivelled and desiccated.

There were many cupboards under the benches and a long alcove set off to one side was lined along it's three walls with both stone and stainless steel sinks with marble and stainless steel draining boards. In the very centre of the large room she was standing in was another marble bench and a series of cauldrons standing over what could only be magical flames because there was no wood or coal to feed the flames. All of the cauldrons were covered.

The Prince was standing in the middle of this work station, putting various chopped, diced, shredded or sliced ingredients into various containers—some he put in by hand, others, he used his wand to direct there transfer from work bench to container. He was banishing the dirty implements he had been using to the alcove and one of the sinks, over which the tap was gushing forth a froth of already soapy water.

The whole place was scrupulously clean—almost sterile—and the Prince himself did not have on his usual voluminous robes, nor indeed, the tight fitting jeans and jumper Erin had so admired on him yesterday. Instead, he was wearing another high necked, long sleeved black robe, but this one had tightly fitted sleeves and was nowhere near as voluminous as his more formal robes. And even though it was black, the robe had a shiny, bluish- green cast to it—it almost had the look of some synthetic Muggle fabric, but Erin did not doubt that it was made of some highly, indestructible natural product. Obviously, whatever was in those ‘Double, double, toil and trouble’, type cauldrons was highly corrosive or something.

“So, this is where you work your magic?” she asked, rather obviously, she knew but it was too late to call back the banal words.

The Prince was definitely of a like mind because he raised those obsidian eyes from his task, but without lifting his chin. He stared at Erin coldly under his arched eyebrows, his hair falling in twin curtains around his pale face and his hands continuing with the task of sealing containers. Only when Erin’s cheeks and forehead had reddened with embarrassment, did he look back down to attend to his task. He didn’t deign to answer.

If Erin had any sense, she knew she should have turned and fled, there and then, but as usually happened when she was in his presence—and regardless of her current chagrin—her backbone stiffened. She advanced further into the room, until she was standing on the other side of the marble-topped bench where he worked. She clasped the bench top, her thumbs running parallel with the edge and her fingers tight on the underside. Her white nail beds were the only indication of her nervousness, but Prince Severus couldn’t see them under the bench.

When she realised just how nervous she was, her fingers loosened their death grip. There was absolutely no reason for her to feel nervous. She was not usually a nervous person. And that a man could make her nervous, was enough to make her fuming mad. Severus Snape was a man, nothing more, nothing less. Well, that wasn’t strictly true…he was a wizard, quite a powerful wizard from the little Tonks had told her and what she had seen herself—not that she was any judge of how much magical power was considered powerful.

Geppetto was very powerful, everyone said so, but he didn’t make her nervous. Remus was powerful—that had been inferred because he had been able to Apparate with her in an unconscious condition and with himself being injured—but he didn’t make her nervous either. Neither did Minerva or Tonks, nor indeed any of the other people she had met. Except of course for that horrible Selwyn man she had seen and heard yesterday. And he had not only made her nervous, he had also given her chills down her spine. But then again, Prince Severus gave her chills down her spine…very different chills—mainly when his black velvet voice stroked her senses or he looked at her and she saw a fire in the depths of those onyx pools that were usually so very cold. Of course, she had only seen that fire once and it had been quickly extinguished, but she had gotten chills down her spine.

Of course, yesterday after what she had overheard during the Prince’s confrontation with Selwyn, Erin had been very nervous of her companion’s seeming association with that evil lord and his minions. But she had had time to think during their trip to the mall and bank, and shopping trip that had tried his patience to the nth degree. Now that was the reaction of a typical man, wizard or not.

And of course, anyone who would risk himself to go and rescue a cat after telling her categorically that he would not do so, couldn’t be evil. Definitely unpleasant at times, there was no getting away from that fact, but evil? No.

“Do not touch anything on this work bench if you wish your fingers to remain whole,” bellowed Severus, and Erin jumped so badly, her hands slipped and she nearly ended up with her nose in a pile of some kind of dried reddy-purple plant matter. It looked like strands of tobacco except for the colour.

“And you couldn’t have said that quietly, I suppose,” Erin yelled back, now safely feet away from the bench top. Yes, definitely unpleasant!

Severus banished the last of the sealed containers—some to various places on the shelves, but two of them flew across the room to one of the larger cupboards where the door was standing open to receive it's new contents.

“It is not my habit to warn unexpected and unwanted guests of the dangers they can encounter in my laboratory, madam,” Severus said in his usual unpleasant drawl.

Madam! She was madam now. And though she knew her visit had been unexpected, it took an extremely detestable person to tell a guest, unexpected or not, that she was unwelcome. Erin glared, all her positive thoughts about him disappearing in a puff of smoke. He could go hang before she would thank him for retrieving Pumpkin.

And then much to her dismay, she felt her bottom lip start to tremble. She bit it in an effort to hide her distress. Then without a word, she turned on her heel and left the room with as much dignity as she could muster. She even eased the door shut rather than giving into the temptation to slam it as hard as she could.

8888

Severus’s eyes remained fixed on the door through which one of the most attractive women he had met in a long time had just exited. And in his inimitable fashion, he was going out of his way to alienate her. In a gesture born of frustration and self-loathing, he spun about and flung a silver dagger at the wall where it hit with a dull metallic clang before it ricocheted off, hit the edge of the shelf below it and then fell to the floor.

Severus growled like a rabid dog as he stared at it. He had just destroyed his favourite dagger and it would cost him a small fortune to replace it. It was pure silver with an ivory handle, and it was as sharp as dragon scales. But what made it so valuable was that it was Goblin made.

It had been a gift from Dumbledore fifteen years ago, and over the years, it had become imbued with traces of Severus’s magic. He had never before had a dagger like it and he doubted he ever would again.

He walked over and picked the abused instrument up. He turned it reverently in his hand. The ivory handle had a crack along it's length and he could see the silver tang within it's ivory cocoon. Though Severus knew that the tang was made of sterling silver, rather than pure silver, it looked exactly the same as the blade. The tang needed the addition of copper to give it extra strength. Silver was a soft metal, just shy of being easily malleable and for this reason, Severus only used it for light tasks—no heavy chopping or cutting. And now, his foul temper had gotten the better of him—again—and he doubted he would be able to find as fine an instrument anywhere. Dumbledore had contacts even amongst the goblins that Severus could never hope to cultivate. Severus supposed his ancient mentor had had at least one hundred and twenty or thirty years to cultivate all of his exceedingly handy contacts.

Absently, Severus summoned the box that he kept the dagger in. As he placed it in it's purple velvet nest, his thoughts returned to Erin. Why had the bloody woman shown up? And what was more, how had she found her way down here, through the maze of passageways that separated his private laboratory from his classroom and office?

Angrily, he summoned a great stone jar from a cupboard under the sink and his hands hurt when the momentum of it's flight made it slap against his bare palms with stinging force. Gritting his teeth, Severus tried to reign in his anger but when he pointed his wand at the stone stopper, it shot out so fast, it flew across the room, shattering into half a dozen pieces when it hit the wall. Severus took several deep breaths, and then because he was still angry, he took several more. Finally, he felt calm enough to direct the jar to angle itself so that liquid dribbled out of it onto the soiled bench top.

No more than three ounces had puddled onto the marble, but as Severus watched, it spread itself across the whole surface until every inch was covered. The flow stopped right at the edges but not a drop fell to the floor.

Severus pointed his wand at the stopper and said “Reparo”. He then summoned it so that it stoppered the jar again and the jar returned itself to it's home under the sink.

After two minutes the solution on the bench top began to sizzle. Severus watched it for another two minutes and then with a wave of his wand, and a muttered “Evanesco,” he banished the cleaner, leaving a pristine work surface again.

Severus had carried out the whole of this everyday task with only half his mind on the job. The other half had returned to thoughts of Erin again. He knew how upset she had been after his nasty set down. It had been more than nasty. It had been totally uncalled for, but she had caught him totally off guard.

He had been daydreaming about Erin before Dumbledore had shown up with his ridiculous idea and his even more ridiculous request. Of course, the reason for the unannounced visit had been the problem of what to do with Erin Hanson. It was as though Dumbledore had performed Legilimency on him because his own reluctant thoughts had been centred on the bloody woman since he had woken that morning.

God, during the few hours of sleep he had managed after returning from Privet Drive, he had probably been dreaming about her as well…no, he knew he had been dreaming about her! In the shower and as he was getting dressed, he had been envisaging just how she would thank him for rescuing her cat. He had partaken of a solitary breakfast and while sipping his coffee, his thoughts had returned to luncheon yesterday when she had sipped the honeyed mead and shut her eyes in ecstasy, and then to the coffee shop where she had savoured the chocolate.

He had very nearly had to treat himself to a second shower! And that had been the beginning of his festering anger. He did not want to be attracted to the bloody woman. There was another woman planted firmly in his psyche and he had been true to her for a very long time. At least in mind. He tried not to think about his inability to control his body’s occasional demands for release.

He had managed to banish the Muggle from his thoughts for a few hours while he got on with his brewing, but then Dumbledore had arrived and his temper had reared it's ugly head again after the old fool had reintroduced he subject of Erin Hanson.

And then she had appeared. If Dumbledore had not spoken to her, Severus would have thought his mind had conjured her out of thin air. She had changed her clothes since yesterday. The green suited her, it brought out the colour in her eyes.

Her eyes were a different green to Lily’s…they were a misty green compared to the vibrant almost emerald green that he saw every time he looked into Lily’s son’s eyes. But even those eyes, though identical to Lily’s, looked different in Harry Potter’s face, surrounded as they were by the features of James Potter.

And that was when Severus had lost it entirely…Erin had smiled tentatively and advanced as far as the bench. That had been his excuse to let loose his inner demons, as if he had needed one. The fact that he had been comparing the colour of her eyes to Lily’s had made him realise just how far down the path of infatuation he had travelled.

He did not want to be feeling attraction. He had no time for such indulgences. And if the Dark Lord was to learn that one of his lieutenants had an attraction for a Muggle—let alone the Muggle whom he had seen in Potter’s bedroom before both had escaped him—then he was a dead man.

None who took the Dark Mark would ever consider harbouring an attraction for a Muggle. Oh, their master encouraged them to slake their lust with any Muggle they felt so inclined to do so with, but the outcome of any such liaison was the certain death of their victim by the most brutal means possible.

And really, what was there to be attracted to anyway? The woman was a little harpy. And she seemed to have made herself a surrogate mother to Potter. If he did decide to follow up this attraction to Erin Hanson, could he get past everything that annoyed him about the woman? There were dangers inherent to himself and her with such a foolish course of action. Perhaps the fact of her attachment to the ‘Bloody Boy Who Lived to be the Bane of His Life’, was just the thing to kill any thought of romance that might have already taken up precious space in his brain, stone dead.

No, he Severus Snape definitely did not want romance clogging up his life, always considering that the woman would look at him in that light anyway.

But as Severus spelled off the lights after re-checking his potions, and making sure everything was neat and tidy, he could not help wondering again, exactly why Erin had searched him out down here in the very bowels of the castle.

With tears of fury starring her eyes, Erin stalked off down the dungeon corridor. Oh, how she wished she had slammed that bloody door. It would have enabled her to siphon off a little of this anger. Now, all she could do was kick the stone wall, but unfortunately she knew that the stones would win the battle against her new trainers.

After she rounded yet another bend, Erin stopped and stared at the dim passageway ahead of her. Then she looked back the way she had come. Every bit of wall, floor and ceiling looked exactly the same as the bit before and the bit after. There was more than one passageway—she had noticed that when Dobby had guided her down here.

She was hopelessly lost.

A sob of frustration welled up and unable to control her emotions any longer, Erin moved sideways and slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She hiccoughed and tried to gather herself together, but it was hopeless. The tears flowed faster and Erin covered her face and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the cold stones. Tears leaked through the fingers that were pressed tightly against her eyes and sobs rocked her body.

Everything that had happened over the last thirty-six odd hours suddenly welled up and overflowed…in spades: the fear that someone had broken into number four while Harry was there alone, seeing a broken and battered Harry being hovered over by a supposed assailant, waking up in fantasy land, finding out that her parents home had been destroyed, and finally, speaking to her parents yesterday…it was all too much. The wet eyes in the mall yesterday had obviously just been the very tip of the iceberg and she was now discovering just how big the submerged iceberg was.

And now bloody Severus Snape of the black heart, had pushed just that little bit harder than her obviously shaky emotions could tolerate and she had turned into a pathetic blubbering mess. A lost, pathetic blubbering mess!

All she had wanted to do was thank him for finding Pumpkin for her. Why did he have to be such an absolute…aagh! He was not going to reduce her to swearing. Well, bloody didn’t count. And if she started on anything worse than bloody, she wouldn’t be able to stop. He was just such a…such an…

Erin dragged in a shaky breath and tried to stop crying. But every time that she did, a burning lump that she could not swallow past would block her throat and she would start gasping for air like she was going to start to hyperventilate.

Erin sat hunched on the floor howling until she had no more tears left. And seem as they were all now on the outside, she desperately needed a tissue to mop them up. She had thrown a box of tissues in amongst the toiletries she had loaded her shopping basket with yesterday, but of course, they were in her room as she hadn't thought that she would need a tissue just to go and thank the Black-hearted Prince.

Silly me! You’d think I could have intuited that a meeting with that razor-tongued, disdainful, detestable, slithering snake-in-the-grass would definitely lead to tears.

Erin rubbed her very wet face against the knees of her jeans and sniffled to try and clear her nose. Nope, she definitely needed a tissue. She raised her swollen eyes and looked around at her dimly lit, dank and unwelcoming surroundings. How in the hell had she gotten herself so lost? Surely there couldn’t be that many different corridors down here. Sure, the castle was big, she had seen that yesterday when she had turned back to look at it while the snake was hailing that Knight Bus, but it wasn’t as big as a city.

But these corridors seemed to go on for ever. How was she going to find her way out? She could probably wander around down here until she collapsed from dehydration and died. She supposed one day, someone would find her bones. She imagined rats would make short work of her flesh.

And then Erin realised just how maudlin and ridiculous her thoughts were becoming. And she thanked Severus Snape for that! Taking a deep breath and girding her loins, Erin pushed herself back to her feet. She pressed her fingertips against her swollen eyelids again and massaged them gently, still sniffling. Then she gathered the length of her hair into one hand and rubbed the sensitive skin on the back of her neck before letting the red-gold curtain fall down her back again.

God, what kind of an idiot was she? Before coming down here, she had taken her hair out of the untidy ponytail she had gathered it into earlier and brushed it's luxuriant thickness until it shone like one of these torches in it's wall sconce. She hadn't placed any significance upon her action, but now as she started to retrace her steps—at least she thought she was retracing her steps—she realised belatedly and with a sense of dawning horror, that she had tried to make herself more attractive for Severus Snape.

And just how mortifying was that. Erin began walking more quickly, the soles of her trainers slapping angrily against the uneven stone floor. She was all kinds of a fool. She was attracted to him! What was it about that horrible, horrible man that made her feel that she had to fuss over her appearance for him? He had not intimated in any way that he found her anything more than a complete nuisance. Look at how desperately he had tried to avoid accompanying her to London yesterday. And look at how terse and disinterested and downright unpleasant he had been all the time they had been alone together. You would think that that might have been enough of a hint for her that the man did not think of her in a similar light. And she had fixed her bloody hair!

But he had gone out of his way to rescue Pumpkin.

Erin shut her eyes and shook her head. She was not going to think about the man in any positive light. So, he liked cats. It was cat’s owners that he found abhorrent. She began walking again, coming to a fork in the labyrinthine passageways and taking the left one. When you were as lost as she was, one way was as good as the other. Perhaps she should do what they told you to do if you were lost in the outback in Australia. Just sit and wait. Someone would find you. But walking was helping her to siphon off some of her anger.

So, she had definitely decided that not only was Severus Snape not interested in her, her attraction to him made her a total masochist. Did he have to emblazon the words across his forehead so that she would get the message? But why would he have to do that? Erin stopped walking again and gazed ahead of her, suddenly even more horrified than she had been when she had actually admitted to herself that she was attracted to the man. Did he know? Did the black-hearted Prince know that she was attracted to him?

Oh, please God, don’t let him know.

Erin continued to walk for another five minutes before she stopped and slumped against one of the damp walls again. More tears were on the way, but she dug her fingertips into her eyes again in an effort to stop them. What good would they do? What good had the last crying jag done besides to give her a headache to go along with her mortification? How was she going to find her way out of here? She had sent Dobby away after he had led her to Professor Snape’s laboratory. What had she been thinking? Probably that the man she had come to thank would take the time to walk back to the main part of the castle with her.

“Oh, Dobby! Why did I send you away,” Erin groaned. But then her eyes flew open and she yelped in surprise when a loud crack sounded right next to her. Dobby’s little face was shining up at her from beneath his teetering tower of knitted hats.

“Did miss call for Dobby?” the elf asked quietly.

Erin felt like throwing her arms around the little creature with relief. “Oh, Dobby, I am so happy to see you. How did you know to come?”

“Dobby heard you miss. If anyone wants Dobby, all they has to do is be calling Dobby. But Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby does not have to be answering every summons. But miss is a friend of Harry Potter’s and so Dobby is happy to be doing anything for miss.”

Dobby looked around at his surroundings. “But miss is a very long way down in the dungeons. Professor Snape’s laboratory is back that way. Miss is practically under the lake.”

Erin’s cheeks had reddened. “I know Dobby. I’m hopelessly lost. Professor…Professor Snape was too busy to see me back to the Entrance Hall.”

“But miss should have called Dobby right away.”

Erin thought of the state she had been in when she had left the black-hearted Prince’s lab. Her embarrassment increased. “I didn’t want to bother you. I thought I would be able to find my way out.”

Dobby studied her face in the dim light and his bat-like ears seemed to droop a little because of what he saw. He held out his little hand. “Dobby will be leading miss back to her room,” he said solemnly.

“The Entrance Hall should be fine, Dobby,” replied Erin, taking the little hand in her own. “I think I should be able to find my way to my room now.”

But Dobby had obviously decided that Erin needed a guide all the way back to the sixth floor, and fifteen minutes later, Erin was quietly shutting her door as Dobby disappeared with a loud crack back to the kitchens or wherever he had been working before she had dragged him away from his task. Ten minutes after returning to her room, Erin was soaking the dankness of the dungeons from her bones and skin as she luxuriated in a beautifully scented, hot bath, with a cold face washer over her face and her hair up in as untidy a ponytail as she had been able to manage—having finally consigned Severus Snape to the devil.

8888

Severus too had made use of the castle’s abundant water supply, but he preferred a long, hot shower. Being below the level of the lake here in the dungeons, the water pressure was forceful to say the least and he relaxed under the pounding needles of hot water as they massaged his shoulders and neck. He just stood with his head bowed and his hands against the tiled wall for ten minutes and let the needles do their work, and slowly, the tension of the last thirty-six odd hours began to ease.

Things weren’t as bad as they could have been, of course. He would still hardly be able to move after his prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse two nights ago, even with his own superior brews to dose himself with and the special muscle and nerve rejuvenator that he could soak in. Two tears from Fawkes and there was no lingering muscle ache, tremors, or headache. The tears had also seemed to dull his memory of the actual pain whilst he was under the curse, an effect for which he was profoundly grateful.

Idly, Severus reached for the sandalwood soap that he favoured and which he made himself, and began to work up a deep lather over his chest and abdomen. He wondered whether he would be able to get Albus to persuade that remarkable bird to offer up a phial full of tears. Merlin knew, there was a handful of very rare brews that were precisely that because they needed the addition of phoenix tears to make them their most efficacious.

With his post-cruciatus brew, all he would have to do would be to incorporate the smallest amount of phoenix tear to make it a truly remarkable potion. All he would need for each batch of potion was the thinnest stylet dipped into a phial of tears and then, wet with the merest trace of the tears, he would then dip it into the swirling current of brew after he had taken it off the flame and it had cooled slightly. Yes, that would definitely improve his formula fifty fold. And the infinitesimal amount needed for each batch would mean that the phial of tears would last for years. Drinking the whisky with the addition of two of Fawkes’s tears had not only banished his tremors and pain instantaneously, they had made him feel fitter than he had in a long time, and that affect was persisting.

Phoenixes really were the most amazing magical creatures

But would Fawkes be co-operative? Severus had never seen another phoenix in the whole of his life, so he definitely needed Fawkes to be willing to contribute tears, and for that, he had to keep on Albus’s good side. But to remain on Albus’s good side at the moment would require him to undertake a task that he wanted nothing to do with.

Angrily, Severus rubbed the bar of solid shampoo that he had concocted for his own personal use over his hair, and then attacked his scalp with vigorously strong fingers. How he hated his hair with it's propensity to only remain oil-free for less than twenty-four hours. Usually, he did not let it bother him…he found that it added to the intimidation factor when dealing with his students. During the holidays, however, he took more care with his appearance. But as this last thought wafted across his consciousness, Severus paused in the action of drawing his fingers through the squeaky clean, long black locks and slumped against the cool tiles. He raised his face to the pummelling spray of water.

Who was he kidding? He normally could not care less about any aspect of his appearance, as long as he was clean and shaven. But in the last couple of days, he had washed his hair three times!

With a hiss of irritation, Severus twisted the faucets and shut off the water. As he stepped from the shower and reached for a towel upon which he had earlier cast a warming charm, he realised that his mental ramblings about phoenixes and potions had been a deliberate ploy to prevent his thoughts from dwelling on Erin Hanson.

There were so many reasons not to allow this woman a foothold in his life, not the least being the fact that such an attractive woman would never look at him in a romantic light. Then there was the inescapable fact that the Dark Lord would never stand for one of his Death Eaters having a relationship with a Muggle.

Severus didn’t even have to wonder about the form the punishment would take. If he wished to survive, he would be forced to torture and kill Erin—after she had been passed around for the other Death Eater’s cruel pleasure. If he refused to do the Dark Lord’s bidding, and accepted death for himself, he would still have to watch as Death Eater after Death Eater raped and tortured her before the final denouement, and then he himself would be disposed of in the cruellest, possible way.

Severus threw the towel aside in a fury and snatched up his wand. He didn’t have the patience to towel himself dry, and with an angry flick of his wand, he was instantly dry. Then he stalked into the bedroom and dressed himself in fresh robes, cursing Erin Hanson and his own foolish, youthful fascination with the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord.

8888

Thinking to spend the rest of the afternoon reading and imbibing a quantity of his favourite single malt scotch whisky, Severus stalked into his reading room, intent upon pouring himself a hefty measure of alcohol. He headed for the small, round, marble topped table where he kept his supply of alcoholic beverages and turned a squat tumbler upright. He stopped in the process of uncapping his favourite whisky however, when the green flames flared within his empty fireplace and Poppy Pomfrey’s face appeared. She caught sight of her quarry immediately.

“Severus, I would appreciate it if you could come and check on Harry for me. As he is your patient, I do not want to countermand your orders.”

Severus shut his eyes and took a deep breath. If there was one thing that he did not need at the moment, it was anything to do with Harry bloody Potter. “What is it Poppy? Apart from the potions I ordered for the boy, he only needs to remain resting in the hospital wing before he is released.”

“Yes…well, that is easy enough in itself. But though he is resting as you ordered, he is resting too much. He seems to have sunk into apathy. He did not eat any lunch and he is just lying there, sometimes sleeping, yes, but often just gazing into space. It is a little disconcerting because he seemed happy enough until Miss Hanson left this morning.”

Severus lips thinned. Another susceptible male who had apparently fallen for Miss Hanson’s charms. “What is it you think I should do Poppy?” he asked irritably. “Perhaps he is just tired.”.

Poppy’s green tinged face hardened—her lips thinning in a way that Severus remembered from his own student days. “Tired from what? Resting in bed. I would appreciate it if you could come and re-assess him…make sure that his significant injuries are still healing to your satisfaction…” her lips thinned even further. “After all, Severus, there is more to healing than just repairing physical damage.

“ think it is his state of mind that needs special care at the moment. And loathe as I am to push you and Mr Potter into each other’s company, considering your combined history, it was you who was there for the child when he was near death’s door, and you who was here when he found out about the demise of his aunt and cousin and the destruction of his home. You will probably be able to empathise more, having been a part of the whole terrible ordeal.”

Severus didn’t know if it was wishful thinking on Poppy’s part to imagine that there was any circumstance on Earth that could see him empathising with James Potter’s son, or if she truly did not know as much as she thought she did about his and Potter Junior’s combined history. But her ‘loathe as I am to push you and Mr Potter into each other’s company’ would tend to make that unlikely.”

“I doubt my speaking to Potter will have any positive effect, Poppy.”

“He needs to speak to someone and he will not speak to me,” she said in a snippy but determined voice. “As his primary carer, it is your place to speak to him. I will see you within the next couple of minutes.” And with that, she withdrew her angry visage from the fireplace.

Severus looked towards the bottle of whisky that he had intended to make significant inroads into. So, single malt...or Harry Potter. Decisions, decisions. But Severus wouldn’t put it past Poppy to come through the floo and lead him by the ear back to the hospital wing.

Well, perhaps a little Potter baiting would help keep thoughts of a certain Muggle at bay. This course of action also had the added benefit of not leaving him in dire need of a hangover cure. And bringing the Golden Gryffindor down a peg or two had always made him feel better before. But as Severus took up a pinch of green powder and transported himself to the hospital wing, he was a little shocked to realise that the prospect of baiting the boy no longer held quite the same appeal.

Poppy was standing in front of a glass fronted cabinet, sorting through her current stock of potions. As Severus spelled the ash from his black robes, she looked him over sternly, making him feel like the taciturn young Slytherin who had often taken up the matron’s time having hexes or jinxes reversed or lifted that James Potter, Sirius Black or occasionally Peter Pettigrew had ambushed him with.

Severus looked down his substantial nose at her, no longer that vulnerable teenage boy. Poppy ignored the look and directed his gaze by pointing with her stern chin towards the mound of covers that was totally covering Potter’s small frame. Severus couldn’t even see that trademark messy hair.

It was three-thirty in the afternoon and though Potter had suffered terribly at the hands of his uncle, he had received the necessary care with little delay. Severus had ordered the bed rest, not to torture the boy, but because exhaustion was a typical side effect of trauma and the subsequent healing also used up a lot of energy. Despite this, the boy had seemed to be advancing just as Severus would have expected him to be early this morning when he had dropped the cat onto his bed. Then, it had been just after dawn, and Potter had been lying wide awake gazing at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Hmm…Severus had not really thought about that then, but surely Potter should have been sound asleep.

And now he was buried under the covers when Severus would have expected him to be practically climbing the walls, demanding to be released from the hospital wing. One thing he knew for certain about Harry Potter was that he was definitely not lazy or a layabout…well, with anything that wasn’t schoolwork, anyway. Perhaps his present exhaustion had to do with the fact that he had been awake so early this morning, but then again, out of the ordinary sleeping habits could be a sign of something untoward.

Before he could sweep out of the office, Poppy put a bony hand on his arm. Severus looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Be gentle,” she said softly. “He’s been through a lot Severus, as none better than you knows. He might think he’s grown up, but he isn’t. And he has now lost the last of his family, and poor family though they were, following so quickly after the death of Sirius Black, it has to be having a major impact on him.

Severus didn’t answer, but Poppy must have seen something in his face, because she nodded and released his arm before turning back to her potion cabinet without another word.

Severus strode over to Potter’s bed, expecting the boy to stir when he heard approaching footsteps. But there was no movement under that mound of bedclothes. “Potter,” said Severus in a no-nonsense voice.

No response.

“Potter!” Severus raised his voice slightly and at the same time, he yanked the edge of the covers down. The boy’s eyes flew open but remained vague with the remnants of sleep. He had definitely been sound asleep and it was taking him a while to drag himself back to full consciousness.

Severus watched the green eyes that the boy had inherited from Lily, as they blinked owlishly several times before beginning to clear. Harry’s tongue flicked out to moisten very dry lips. For a moment, he seemed to be about to succumb to drowsiness again, but then Severus moved to pull the covers down a little further and Harry froze.

He flipped onto his back and blinked up at the black and white shape looming over him. Severus had no doubt the boy knew, even without the aid of his glasses, that he was looking at the looming form of his hated potions professor. Sure enough, Harry shot upright in the bed and scrabbled on the cabinet for his glasses. All he managed to do in his panic was nearly knock them to the floor and Severus clamped his hand around the boy’s bony wrist and then guided the suddenly frozen hand towards a wire earpiece. Shocked as he was, Harry’s senses quickly caught up and he grasped the earpiece. Severus let his arm go and Harry fumbled the glasses onto his face.

“What!” said Harry somewhat aggressively, but he seemed to realise how rude he had sounded without Severus’s raised eyebrow to point it out. “Sorry,” he then mumbled, his forehead and cheeks stained ruby red against the pallor of the rest of his face.

“What are you doing, Potter?” asked Severus in as indifferent a tone as he could muster. “I didn’t think to find you curled up like a foetus under a mound of covers on a hot…” he gestured out the window at the clear blue sky, “July day.”

“Well what else is there to do?” asked Harry belligerently. “You told me I had to stay in bed.’

“Staying in bed does not constitute sleeping your life away. You do know how to read, don’t you?”

“According to you, no,” said Harry pushing the boundaries and making Severus narrow his eyes. Harry back-tracked a little. “I haven’t got anything to read. I haven’t got my new text books yet.”

“And of course, you know the old ones by heart,” said Severus mockingly. “If you do not wish to read to garner some much needed knowledge, then perhaps you could read just enough to attempt to do some of your summer homework. I know that I set work that you should be able to make a fair showing of with the assistance of your fifth year text.’

“Oh, come on Professor,” scoffed Harry. “Since when has ‘making a fair showing’ where I’m concerned ever garnered me anything more than a ‘P’ when you’re marking my work?”

Severus crossed his arms and glared at the cheeky little snot. But as irritated as he was with the truth being thrown in his face so effectively, Severus didn’t feel as guilty as Harry obviously meant him to feel. The grades that Potter thought he had received were not actually the grades that were recorded in Severus’s own records. They were the grades the boy had actually earned, and on the whole they were more than average.

Severus had idly wondered on more than one occasion when he placed an ‘E’ beside the boy’s name in his records for some piece of work or other, just how well the junior Potter might do at potions if he was left well alone to get on with things without constant harassment.

Certainly, this nasty behaviour was ill befitting a teacher, but Severus had never pretended to be devoted to the job and Harry Potter had always managed to bring forth the tormented teenager Severus had once been because of the boy’s swine of a father and godfather. And as much as he had loved Lily Evans, the memories of the battleground that had constituted much of his time as a Hogwart’s student because of James Potter and his cronies, overshadowed the more gentle emotions brought forth by his memories of Lily.

Severus now took a deep breath as his black eyes ranged over the rebellious young person before him. Potter was hunched in on himself, no doubt waiting for an explosion. None was forthcoming, Harry squirmed, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny he was being subjected to. Severus was not surprised by this physical manifestation of nervousness.

Severus had never thought he would see a child beaten as badly as Potter had been by the man who was supposed to be his guardian. Vernon Dursley wasn’t a criminal, he wasn’t cruel to his wife and son; in fact, he indulged both ridiculously, especially the son. But to beat a child to within an inch of his life for being something he had no control over, especially when you were supposed to protect that child was abhorrent to Severus.

He knew there were some who would scoff at his supposedly benign attitude when his own treatment of the boy left so much to be desired; but he had never abused Potter physically. He had come close in his office when he had thrown him to the floor and then followed that up by throwing a full specimen jar at him, but he had definitely not aimed to hit.

It was the injured boy whom he had had to stun and carry back to Hogwarts with him that Severus first thought of now when he was near Harry…not the son of James Potter. Oh, he was still his usual acerbic self when others were around, he had to keep up appearances, after all, but really, most of the pent-up aggression and hatred that had first reared it's ugly head during his own school days had slowly dissipated.

It had started to fade when he had first seen the tortured boy clutching the dead body of Cedric Diggory outside of the maze and listening to Albus’s account of what the fourteen year old son of Lily Evans had suffered in that graveyard after the tri-wizard tournament lessened his aggression even further. As had hearing the tale from the points of view of his fellow Death Eaters; their cruel laughter and jeering remarks making him sick to his stomach at the same time as he had convincingly expressed his profound disappointment in not having been there to see it himself. Of course, what he had not said was that regardless of his torture and near death and after being a witness to the murder of a fellow student, the fourteen year old Potter had still escaped the clutches of the all powerful Dark Lord and his many powerful Death Eaters.

Yes, his and Potter’s backbiting and mutual aggression had continued unabated, but on Severus’s side, the show had mostly been for his Slytherin students, especially Potter’s contemporaries, whom he was aware would be reporting back to their Death Eater relatives…especially Malfoy. He could not have any of them expressing their concerns over the changes in Professor Snape.

But Severus really didn’t have much enthusiasm for Potter baiting these days, especially as the horrors that the boy seemed to encounter every year in one form or another, were becoming much more than a teenage boy should be expected to endure and remain sane. Of course, something good had come out of the horrific events in June…the imprisonment of Malfoy senior and other assorted scum.

Strangely, Black’s death afforded him no pleasure at all.

But of course, it had devastated Potter; Severus knew he had been almost insensible with grief. And regardless of that, Albus had insisted that he be sent home to those Muggles, therefore almost turning an already bad situation into an unequivocal disaster for the boy: nearly killed by a Muggle, nearly captured by Death Eaters, finding out his aunt and cousin were dead seconds before finding out that most of the rest of the inhabitants of Privet Drive were dead also, just because he had not been captured. It was really a wonder that the boy was functioning at all. Erin Hanson seemed to have brought Potter out of himself to a certain extent, but seemingly not enough to carry him when he was left alone to stew.

Severus dragged a chair out from the wall and seated himself. If he had been in the mood, he might have laughed at the look of shock on the young face. Severus was aware of Poppy shooting covert looks towards the pair of them, but as he had so far managed to restrain himself from putting his hands around the boy’s throat and squeezing, she had held her protective instincts in check and continued to at least look as if she was clearing her out of date potions from her stocks.

“Madam Pomfrey told me that you didn’t eat any lunch,” said Severus, conversationally.

Harry stared at him, amazed at this concern. He shrugged. “I wasn’t hungry. So what?”

“So, how do you expect to heal adequately without partaking of a diet rich in the essential nutrients.”

Harry snorted with laughter. “You sound like a TV commercial,” he chortled, but Severus noticed that he kept his eyes averted and that they were worryingly blank. “And I’m not concerned about not healing adequately Professor, because you are providing me with the necessary potions to bring me back to full strength and vitality.”

Severus stared, totally taken aback that Potter was actually mouthing off at him without the slightest trace of fear. The brave-to-the-point-of-idiocy- Gryffindor had always before been sensible enough to be nervous around him.

“Look at me Potter,” he said subduing a strange desire to laugh. There were a few seconds when Severus thought the boy would ignore him, but then he turned his head towards Severus. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“Potter, if you need to talk to someone about everything that has happened…”

Harry looked away again. “I don’t.” he said.

“Potter…”

“Professor Snape, you got me out of Privet Drive and you healed me because Madam Pomfrey wasn’t here. But let’s not pretend that you give a damn about me or anything that has happened to me.

“In fact, I’m sure you must have danced a jig when Sirius died. Two down, two to go. So, that leaves Pettigrew and Lupin. I’m surprised that you haven’t remedied that situation before now. I bet you’re clever enough to get Pettigrew away from Voldemort for long enough to off him. When you do that, let me know will you. I might even shake your hand for that one.”

Harry suddenly looked mock thoughtful, and after that stinging denunciation, Severus actually found himself slightly afraid of what else might spew from the boy’s lips. Sure enough, Harry surpassed his earlier effort. “Come to think of it though, I imagine Pettigrew more than redeemed himself in your eyes by handing my mum and dad over to Voldemort. So I suppose you’d pat him on the back, rather than kill him.

“But there’s still Remus. Surely you could think of a way to kill him without raising suspicion. A man of your cunning.” That mock thoughtful look again. “Let’s see…you’re both members of the Order. You must see Remus pretty soon after the full moon when he’s sick and weak. It wouldn’t be difficult to off him then, would it?”

“Harry!”

Harry’s head snapped around. Professor Dumbledore and Erin were standing, rooted to the spot a few steps away from the end of Harry’s bed. The colour that had risen in Harry’s cheeks during his little speech leeched away to leave him chalk white. He swallowed audibly when he saw just how angry his headmaster was. Harry had never before seen him so furious.

And then his eyes flicked to Erin. She didn’t look angry…well, why would she? She didn’t really know what he had been talking about, after all. But Harry was sorry to see her looking upset. He supposed he could understand that. She had just heard him talking about ‘offing’ people. Madam Pomfrey had obviously heard too, because she was standing beside Erin, looking horrified.

Albus moved to the end of the bed and glared down at Harry, palpable waves of fury radiating from him. “I would not have believed that you would say such things, Harry. You will apologise to Professor Snape. Now!”

Harry dragged his eyes away from Erin and focused on Dumbledore. Amazingly, the headmaster’s overt fury seemed to calm Harry. But he didn’t do as the old man had ordered him to do. Instead, he calmly pushed the covers back and slid off the bed. He snatched up his wand and would have stalked off if Dumbledore had not erected a shield charm that Harry just bounced off.

He raised dead green eyes towards Dumbledore. “This is getting really old, Professor,” he said in a voice that was just as dead as his eyes. “Let me out.” Albus realised that he and Harry were replaying the events of several weeks ago when he had refused to let Harry leave his office.

“And just where do you think you are going to go, Harry?” he asked in a voice just a little less angry than it had been seconds before. Harry ignored the question and attempted to climb over the bed next to his, but the shield charm seemed to totally surround him.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” bellowed Harry, and he raised his wand and yelled, “Reducto!” the shield shimmered slightly as the reasonably powerful Reductor curse hit it, but it did not weaken in any way, and the two women gasped.

“The only place you will be able to go, Harry, is back to bed. The shield encompasses you and your bed.”

“You have no right to keep me here,” bellowed Harry, pointing his wand at his headmaster for emphasis. “I want out.” His voice cracked and tears suddenly welled in his eyes. He ignored them. “I’ve had it with everything, including this place. I WANT OUT!”

Everyone just stared at him. Severus, who had still not recovered from the impact of Harry’s invective, was now standing beside Dumbledore, watching the frustrated youth as he stalked up and down beside his bed. Obviously Poppy had been correct to be worried about Harry’s state of mind. He seemed to be at the end of his tether and Severus really couldn’t have been more shocked. With everything that had happened to Harry, he had always seemed to bounce back to being his usual irritating, Gryffindor self.

Suddenly Harry stopped in his tracks. He stood irresolute for a moment, and then he seemed to become boneless. Erin and Poppy both drew in distressed gasps as Harry staggered. He would have fallen but he managed to grasp the bedcovers. Erin made to rush forwards but Dumbledore held out a restraining arm, not that she would have been able to get past the shield charm anyway.

They all watched with varying degrees of distress as Harry used the covers to haul himself back onto the bed. Ignoring everyone’s presence—it was almost as though he had forgotten anyone was there watching him—he curled on his side, moving like a little old man, and pulled the covers back over his head.

Dumbledore seemed to wilt before Severus’s eyes and Severus summoned a chair from across the aisle and guided the old man into it. When a sob sounded from behind his shoulder, he turned to see Erin with tears flowing down her face and Poppy looking close to tears.

“What happened to precipitate that outburst, Severus?” asked Dumbledore in an exhausted voice.

“Poppy asked me to talk to Potter because she was worried about him. He wouldn’t talk to her.”

“That’s right Albus,” confirmed Poppy. “Severus was being very patient. Harry was the aggressive one, I’m afraid to say.”

Albus shook his head and rubbed his forehead. “He has finally reached the end of his tether. I have to say, I was surprised when he was able to pull himself back up after Sirius died and after I revealed the…” Suddenly he stopped talking, and Severus knew it was because of the presence of the two women.

“Well,” he continued. “Drastic action needs to be taken, I’m afraid.” He stood up and with a wave of one gnarled hand, he removed the shield charm. Then he resolutely walked to Harry’s bed and pulled the covers down just enough to be able to retrieve the boy’s wand. Harry didn’t stir, and Dumbledore waved his hand over the boy’s head before placing the hand on his head, and running his fingers through the messy locks, in a loving gesture.

Then with a sigh, he turned to face the others. “Poppy, please drop everything else and just sit with Harry for the time being. I have cast a light Somulus Charm so that he remains asleep. Severus and Erin, could you please come with me? I would like to discuss something with you both.”

Severus immediately scowled. He had a very definite feeling that he was not going to like what Albus had to say. And what was more, now that the crisis was over for the time being, he had become aware of Erin’s presence. Oh, he had of course known she was here before, but Harry’s atypical behaviour had pushed every other thought from his mind. Now though, he noted that she had changed her top and she had put her hair up. He wished she hadn't. He liked it down.

Erin looked positively alarmed when Geppetto asked her to accompany him and the Black-hearted Prince. When she had met the old wizard as she was coming to visit Harry minutes earlier, she had not expected to find the prince here. But even his unwelcome presence had been forgotten when she and Professor Dumbledore had entered the hospital wing to hear Harry ranting about ‘offing’ people. And she had been rooted to the spot when she had heard Remus’s name and then Harry saying something about him being weak and sick after the full moon. That had reminded her of something that the Selwyn man had said that she had wanted to ask about, but with everything else that had happened, she had forgotten.

But then Dumbledore had admonished Harry and everything had deteriorated. Erin’s heart had broken because it was obvious that Harry had more problems than the ones she was privy to, and the recent happenings were apparently the straws that broke the camel’s back. Harry had reached his limit of endurance. It seemed that he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Erin took a deep breath and after casting a determined look at Professor Snape’s scowling face, she followed quickly in the old wizard’s wake. She heard the Black-hearted Prince follow.

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For such an old man Professor Dumbledore could certainly move. Erin had to practically run to keep him in view and all the time she hurried up staircases and along corridors, she was horribly aware of the Black-hearted Prince sweeping along in her wake. The back of her neck prickled where she was sure those black eyes were boring into her.

Finally, they arrived in front of an ugly, stone gargoyle. Erin wondered why they weren’t continuing down the corridor but she had her answer when seconds after Dumbledore had stopped, the ugly statue moved to the side, revealing a staircase. That wouldn’t have been so very surprising, except for the fact that the circular staircase was made of stone, and they were revolving upwards, like a circular escalator.

Dumbledore stepped onto the moving staircase and after a short pause, Erin followed. By the time she stepped off the stairs into a small antechamber, the headmaster had thrust open a polished oak door and was striding across a beautiful, circular room towards a majestic desk. Erin stood in the open doorway and looked around the most fascinating room she had seen since she had been here at Hogwarts. Her wide green eyes had come to rest upon a magnificent scarlet and gold bird, the size of a swan, sitting on a large perch slightly to the side of, and behind the desk. She had never before seen a bird like this one and she wondered what it was.

“In your own time, Miss Hanson,” said a drawling voice behind her. Erin jumped and turned. The Prince was standing behind her, and as she had stopped in the open doorway, he could not get past. She jumped to the side, her cheeks burning. She could have kicked herself. So much for not letting him get to her again.

“Please, Erin and Severus, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”

The scowl that had appeared on the austere face in the hospital wing contorted the pale features again. Severus strode across the room, but did not sink into one of the sumptuous armchairs in front of the desk. Instead, he stood with his arms crossed, each hand thrust into the opposite sleeve of his flowing black robes.

“Please sit down Severus, you look like a lonely book end,” said Dumbledore, his voice exasperated. Erin didn’t wait to be chastised to sit down and Severus threw himself into the other chair, rather like a petulant child.

“I know that I’m going to hate what you’re going to say Headmaster,” said Severus. Much as I have hated most everything you have said to me in the last few days.”

“Then prepare yourself, Professor Snape, because I am about to assign you baby-sitting duties again.” There was no hint of the benevolent, humorous wizard, now. Severus had not seen his boss look this serious since he had ordered Severus to go to Privet Drive to check on the boy. But the younger wizard was already shaking his head.

“And if I refuse?”

Dumbledore had been leaning forwards with his hands clasped on his desktop. At Severus’s words, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. After a long moment, he opened his eyes again and pinned Severus with their bright blue intensity. “As much as I wish to say that this is an order, Severus, I cannot. This is a duty that will need your total co-operation.

“Harry needs total rest and relaxation, right away from everything he knows and everyone that he knows.”

“If you force us together Albus, it will be a disaster. Chances are, we will kill each other within a day. Why can’t Lupin…”

“Remus is too close to Harry, Severus. He does not need cosseting and indulging. As well, Remus has his own health problems. You are a healer. I am sure you agree that Harry still needs medical supervision and too, he needs someone he can vent upon.

“You have already witnessed the sorts of behaviour that may occur. He needs to get on top of his anger and I have faith that you will be able to help him.

“You know my patience is extremely limited Albus, especially where Potter is concerned.”

“Yes, but while he is angry with you for keeping him prisoner and with me for sending him to the prison in the first place, he will not be reliving the terrible happenings that have turned him into the angry, embittered young man we just saw.

“Also, isolating you together would be a good opportunity to make a fresh assault upon the obstacle course that was your Occlumency lessons together.”

Twin slashes of colour appeared across Severus’s cheekbones but Dumbledore held up his hand before Severus could offer up his own stinging assessment of those Occlumency lessons.

“I know Harry was lackadaisical when it came to practise, my boy, but the reason for that was probably more my fault than it was his. He was desperate for information and as no-one was willing to give it to him, he decided to keep an open connection with the source every time the opportunity arose.

‘And Severus, if I was to employ Legilimency against you now, would I find memories of a sensible, mature man conducting exemplary lessons in the art of occlusion, or would I find a man doing his best to turn those lessons into torture sessions?”

The red slashes had spread to encompass Severus’s forehead and his neck. When he opened his mouth again to retort Albus forestalled him once again. “I do not wish to resurrect these unpleasant memories, Severus. What has happened cannot be undone. There was fault on all sides—yours, Harry’s and mine. But as your Occlumency and Legilimency skills are by far the most superior of anyone I have ever known, you are the best choice to instruct Harry in the art.”

“The boy will never be an Occlumens, Albus. He is far too transparent. And as for my being the best choice of teacher…it was a skill that came to me naturally. For me, it is as natural as breathing. Much like flying is for Potter, I imagine. I cannot fall back on my own experiences in learning the skill because I cannot remember a time when I did not have the skill. It was only after I realised that I had the talent that I set about trying to improve it by utilizing certain disciplines.”

“Then it is those disciplines you must try to convey to Harry. Though I agree with you he will never be a master of the art, any level of competence would be better than the total lack of guile and the utter transparency he demonstrates now. A good beginning, when the inevitable tantrums finally stop, would be for you to prove to Harry that he can trust in you implicitly.”

“After the last five years, I doubt that can happen,” muttered Severus.

“I disagree. You have seen firsthand that many of your preconceptions of Harry and the life he let away from Hogwarts were totally erroneous. And yet, despite a childhood deprived of the memory of his parents and spent suffering at the hands of the people who were supposed to care for him, he has encompassed the magical world with a fervour that is to be envied.

“You know the terrible burden that has been loaded onto his narrow shoulders Severus, and you know the losses he has suffered over the years. He blames himself for everything that has happened and we both know that he is totally blameless. But now that the truth is out, he will not rest until he can fulfil his destiny, or die trying.

“That is why he wants out, to try and protect those he loves, and even total strangers. But he is not ready to meet his destiny and he needs to heal from the mental wounds he has already sustained before we can even attempt to prepare him for what he must one day eventually face. He needs a strong person who will not be sidetracked to help him and you are just that person.”

“So you believe wholeheartedly in this prophecy, Albus?” asked Severus, not entirely successful in his attempt to hide his scepticism.

“I do.”

And now Dumbledore turned to Erin who had been sitting as quietly and as inconspicuously as she could whilst the two wizards argued back and forth. The conversation had been very intense, but she had not doubted that Professor Dumbledore would triumph. Severus was not happy by any means, but it seemed he had been convinced.

Erin had been wondering why she was here, and why she had been privy to this conversation, much of which she did not understand, but it seemed that Dumbledore had not forgotten she was there after all. It appeared as if Dumbledore had a need for her services too.

“And whilst Severus is providing the strength, Erin, I hope that you will provide the stability.”

Before Erin could make any sort of comment at all, Severus froze, and then snapped his head between his boss and the woman sitting quietly next to him. He had been gazing blindly out of one of the mullioned windows with his fingers interwoven and the tip of his extended index fingers tapping against his thin lips, obviously thinking on Albus’s words.

Now he sprang out of the chair and glared at Albus. “You cannot seriously be considering what I think you are considering.”

Albus looked back calmly over the top of his half moon spectacles, his own hands clasped together in front of his face. “It is the perfect plan, Severus. Harry will benefit greatly from both your presences.”

Severus had begun to stalk back and forth in front of the desk, shaking his head so that his raven hair brushed against his collar and shoulders. “Potter and I, if we must embark upon this ill-fated journey, will be best left to our own devises,” he bit out through lips that barely moved.

“Now Albus was shaking his own head. “I disagree. Erin will be a necessary buffer…shall we say, the softening influence between Harry and yourself.

Severus let out a noise like an angry snake and leaned across the desk, his arms rigid as his knuckles pressed against the polished mahogany surface. His face was very close to Albus’s but the old wizard was not intimidated by the angry snarl adorning his potion master’s visage. He gazed serenely back.

“This is utterly preposterous, old man,” he said in a sibilant hiss and then he lowered his voice even further to add, “and more than a little irregular. A woman alone in an isolated house with a bachelor and an impressionable teenage boy.”

“If Erin does not object, my dear boy, I do not see what you have to worry about. He stood and patted Severus on the shoulder, leaning forwards himself so that his mouth was close to Severus’s ear. “You need to start thinking like a twenty-first century wizard, Severus. It is only three and a half years away, after all.”

Albus walked around his desk and took a totally bewildered Erin by the arm and led her back towards the oak door, leaning down to expound upon his grand plan, and leaving Severus leaning across the desk, rigid with fury and trying to control the impulse to draw his wand and blast the old fool all the way back to Camelot.

Professor Dumbledore had escorted Erin all the way back to her room, explaining his plan and soothing her disquiet. After all, she had no desire herself to be cooped up in what was apparently a very isolated house in a very lonely spot with a very angry and unpleasant man. Of course the ancient wizard had not ordered her to go along with his wishes—just as he had not ordered Professor Snape—but Erin knew an expert in the art of manipulation when she met one, and Dumbledore was a master. Still, this was for Harry, and she would do anything to help the young boy she had come to care for, even if it meant being on the same island—for Dumbledore had told her they would be on an island—with the Black-hearted Prince.

Now, exactly an hour after Dumbledore had left her to gather her few possessions together—she had only just finished distributing them about the room she had come to love—Erin was back in the beautiful circular office with a squirming Pumpkin in her arms and a holdall Dumbledore had conjured for her use earlier in her room, on the floor at her feet. There was no sign of the miserable potions Professor, for which she was grateful.

The headmaster was coming down a spiral staircase that hugged the curve of the circular tower room. “Ah, Erin…excellent. Satisfyingly prompt.” Enclosed, nicely snug within the curved base of the ornate banister was a beautiful copper globe of the world. It looked very old and very heavy, but when Albus tapped it with his wand, it rose into the air and moved into the centre of the room, coming to rest on its iron stand in front of Erin.

“Here,” said Albus, “let me relieve you of that very pretty little feline you are attempting to hold onto. What is her name?” he asked as he conjured a roomy basket from thin air.

“This is Pumpkin,” answered Erin, handing her agitated cat to Dumbledore. The old wizard was not at all phased by the squirming black bundle…indeed, as soon as he stroked her head, she quieted and began to purr like a well-tuned engine. Dumbledore stroked her gently for a while longer, whispering unintelligible words. When her eyes were mere slits, Dumbledore slipped her into the basket and shut the door.

“She will drowse comfortably until you let her out of the basket. With your permission, I will send her on ahead with your belongings. It is best for you to travel unencumbered.”

Erin nodded uncertainly. She wasn’t sure about being separated from her cat again so very soon after getting her back. “You can do that?” she asked.

“Certainly,” answered Dumbledore. He squeezed Erin’s shoulder. “Do not worry, my dear, she will be totally safe and she will be waiting for you when you arrive.”

This time, Erin’s nod was more decisive, but she still held her breath as Dumbledore waved his wand and the basket and holdall disappeared. Erin shook her head in wonder. After all the magic she had seen, you would think she would be totally used to it now. Not so…it still enthralled her.

“Now my dear, if you will direct your attention to the globe, I will show you where you, Severus and Harry are going to be spending the next little while.”

He spun the globe as Erin watched. “Err…how long exactly?” she asked as Dumbledore found what he wanted and tapped a tiny land mass with his wand. To Erin’s amazement, the area grew, overlapping the rest of the land and water until it took up the whole of the curve of the globe that was facing Erin.

“That will depend entirely on Harry, I’m afraid. But that young man is amazingly resilient and my hope is that he will gather himself together in very short order.”

“He obviously has a lot more than just what happened two days ago to let go of,” observed Erin.

“Yes,” said Dumbledore simply. When it was obvious that the old man wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any more information, Erin sighed and directed her attention to the island that had been blown up for her perusal.

“Do you know Scotland at all?” asked Albus.

Erin looked at the enlarged land mass and then back at the geography teacher beside her. “Well, my subjects are history and English, but I know enough geography to know that that isn’t Scotland.”

Albus chuckled. “You are correct. This is certainly not the Scottish mainland, but it is part of Scotland. This is the Isle of Lewis. It is the largest island in the Outer Hebrides, or if you prefer, the Western Isles.

“It is very isolated, with quite a small population. The western side of the island…” Dumbledore used his wand to point to a coastline that was indented with numerous inlets, or, because it was Scotland, Erin supposed they were firths. “…is barren and virtually free of people. Most of the population is based on the east side of the island and in Stornaway, the main township—really, the only township of any size.” Dumbledore had been indicating the places he was talking about with his wand.

“Many years ago, I built a house on the deserted western side of Lewis. It is protected by a special charm that disallows admission to anyone that the person designated the secret keeper does not wish to be admitted.”

Erin’s brow was creased. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Yes, it is a rather complicated thing to explain.” said Dumbledore, leaving the globe and indicating that Erin seat herself whilst he moved around his desk to his own high-backed chair. “The easiest way around this is for me to give you a practical demonstration as well as an explanation…I am the secret keeper of ‘The Haven’, near Labost, west coast, Isle of Lewis.” As he spoke the words, Dumbledore was writing. He handed a creamy sheet of parchment to Erin and she read the words he had just spoken.

“As the secret keeper, I am the only one who can convey that address to anyone else. If you try, you will find that you cannot speak the words. You will not be able to write them down. If a wizard accomplished in the art of Legilimency were to try to extract it from your mind, he would not be able to find the information.”

Erin was looking at Dumbledore as if he was slightly mad. Dumbledore was smiling. He nodded his head once, aware of what the young woman was thinking.

“I assure you, my dear, I am not mad.’ Erin blushed. “If you will memorise what is written on that parchment, I will show you what I mean.”

Erin looked down at the thin, slanting, old fashioned writing on the parchment. She read and reread the words several times. Albus stood and crossed to the magnificent bird resting on its perch to the side of the desk. He began to pet and croon to him in the same quiet voice he had used to calm Pumpkin earlier.

“I’ve memorized it,” said Erin, intrigued and a little nervous.

“Very good,” said Dumbledore, still stroking the beautiful scarlet head of the bird. “Now try to say the words you have just read, out loud.”

Erin could not only not speak the words, she couldn’t even open her mouth when she tried. She tried again with the same result. It was as if she did not even have a mouth. She began to panic a little bit, her breathing becoming choppy. She felt as if she was choking. Albus turned away from the bird who was watching Erin with bright, intelligent words.

“Just think of something else to say, and the power of speech will be entirely restored to you.”

“But how did you do that?” were the frantic words that burst from Erin's lips, rather louder than she would have wished. She blushed and lowered the volume somewhat. “You didn’t cast any kind of spell.

“No, I did not wave my wand or incant any words. But just by sharing the address with you, I invoked the charm. Now that you have memorised the address, you will be able to see the house and access it at any time. But as you are now aware, you will not be able to convey the location to anyone else.” Erin looked back down at the parchment and then up into the serious face of the old wizard.

“Any person I do not wish to know where the house or the property pertaining to the house is, could stand right in front of it—could even be looking in the front window—and he or she would not be able to see it.

“Could anyone coerce the information from you,” asked Erin.

“They could,” said Dumbledore contemplatively. “But they would have to be exceptional to capture me and hold me long enough to do their worst. I am a formidable wizard, Erin. Few have the nerve to engage me in battle and I am able to withstand many hexes and curses that would render me susceptible.” He said the whole of this without the slightest trace of snugness. It was just fact.

Erin imagined she felt the charge of raw power emanating from the powerful old wizard. She had felt a similar sensation on the night she had first landed in the magical world. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Did you create this charm?” she asked.

Dumbledore blue eyes twinkled. “I did,” he said simply.

Erin leaned forwards, her forearms resting on the desk and her hands clasped. “Look, I understand that Harry needs to recuperate away from people and distractions, but is this all absolutely necessary?”

“There is nothing more important than keeping Harry safe from the evil wizard who is intent upon capturing him,” said Dumbledore. You’re safety is also a priority. The Haven is probably even safer than Hogwarts because no-one…apart from myself, you, Severus and Harry, when he awakens, knows that it even exists.

“Unfortunately, I cannot keep the boy isolated there, much as I would wish it. He needs to attend school and he needs to socialise with his peers. He needs to live as normal a life as possible…” Dumbledore sighed and it was not difficult for Erin to see just how much the old man cared for Harry. When he continued, his voice was regretful. “Though Merlin knows that ‘normal’ is a concept the poor child rarely encounters.”

With another sigh, Dumbledore leaned over and picked up the piece of parchment which Erin had placed on the desk. With a wave of his hand, the parchment caught fire and Dumbledore held it until all but a small corner had burned, then he dropped it onto a large tray under the birds perch and watched it burn until it disintegrated into a smudge of black ash.

“Are you sure this charm will work on a mu…on a non-magical person? Are you sure I will be able to see and access the property?” asked Erin. She had asked the question to try and bring the old wizard out of his reverie, but she was honest enough to admit to herself that she was nervous about the whole thing.

“Quite sure,” he said simply. Erin believed him.

“And how will Harry learn where the place is. He has been asleep since you decided upon this course of action. Unless…has he known about the place for a while?”

“No. he has not. Whilst you were getting your belongings together, I went to the hospital wing and Legilimised Harry, giving him the information via a mental link. Severus however, has known about, and has used the house for a number of years.” Erin nodded, though this legilimising thing the old headmaster spoke of confused her immensely.

“And now,” said Dumbledore, clapping is hands together, “I think the easiest way by far to get you to the Haven is for me to take you.”

Erin tensed. She had been so caught up in the plans to remove Harry to an isolated location to help with his recovery, and then learning where she was going and about the Fidelius Charm, she hadn't given any thought as to how she was going to get there. In the very beginning, she had just assumed that they would be going to someplace quite nearby Hogwarts. With the aid of his old copper globe, Dumbledore had quickly disabused her of that notion.

“Umm…” Erin had just thought of something. “If we’re so isolated, how do we get food. And if the…” Erin had tried to say ‘Haven’ but her mouth had snapped shut. She looked at Dumbledore, wide-eyed, disliking this sensation enormously.

“It is wise to just refer to where you are going as ‘the Place’,” he advised calmly.

“Right. So then…if the Place is so far away from civilisation are there any mod cons?”

Albus’s forehead creased in confusion. “Mod cons, my dear…”

“She means modern conveniences, Albus. I believe Miss Hanson is worried that she will have to make do with candlelight, wood stoves and no hot water,” said a very snide voice behind her.

Erin clenched her fists and took a deep breath. She turned her head to face Severus, who had entered the room silently and had advanced as far as the desk in the time it took her to compose herself. Her face was set and her eyes icy, and when she spoke, her voice dripped scorn. “If I can put up with you, for a prolonged period, Professor Snape, then I could put up with sleeping in a cave.”

Neither of the young people took any notice of Albus but he had turned back to Fawkes to hide the smug smile on his face.

Severus raised one eyebrow the merest fraction, otherwise his face was totally still as he looked down his impressive nose at her. “Indeed,” he drawled. Then he raised those obsidian orbs to Albus’s back. “Perhaps you could fix the cave in the cliff-face up by adding a lantern, and perhaps a straw pallet, Albus, if Miss Hansen has a hankering to commune with nature.”

“If there is such a cave,” flared Erin, “then perhaps that can be your quarters, Professor. After all, it wouldn’t be so very far removed from your natural domain in the bowels of this castle.”

Albus knew it was time to intervene before they shredded each other to pieces. “I believe that will be quite enough of that, children,” he said calmly as he turned to face them, his stern countenance firmly in place. “I would appreciate it if the two of you would make a supreme effort to at least pretend to get on for Harry’s sake. If he is still in his confrontational frame of mind when he wakes up, he does not need to be fed any examples of just the sort of behaviour we are trying to curb in him.”

Erin’s face reddened and she felt exactly like the child Albus had called her. Severus just growled and stalked over to the window to glare out at the late afternoon shadows on the east side of the castle.

“Then perhaps you should rethink this ridiculous plan,” ground out Severus, addressing the pristine pane of glass in front of his face. “Potter isn’t a child, as much as he acts like one most of the time. He does not need to be coddled by a mother substitute.” Erin bit the inside of her cheek hard in the effort to stop herself from launching into another angry tirade, but Albus, had no such reservations. He did not try to hide his annoyance.

“I know that Harry will benefit greatly from Erin’s softer presence, Severus. As much as I know you will curb your tendency towards undue harshness, you are, none the less, not a person overflowing with the milk of human kindness, and after his lessons and talks with you, Harry will need a distraction which I am quite sure Erin can provide.”

When Severus opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuttal, Albus held up his hand, the gesture brooking no argument. “And now, I think it is time that we left. It would be more orientating for Erin if we were to arrive in daylight. Did you bring the potion, Severus?”

Severus reached into a deep pocket and with ill grace, he placed a clear phial containing a bilious coloured potion, on the desk. Erin looked at it with some trepidation. She just knew it was for her.

“My dear,” said Dumbledore, addressing her as if he was trying to calm a skittish horse. “I realise that your last journey by Apparition left you severely under the weather. When Remus brought you to us, however, you were unconscious and woke up with none of those terrible feelings of nausea and dizziness that you suffered after your experience with Severus. Now, Severus has provided this potion that will enable you to drift off to sleep gently. I could, of course, stun you, but that spell can be a little rough and you have been subjected to it more than once already. I would prefer you just slip off into a gentle sleep.”

Erin had become more and more horrified as this explanation went on. ‘Slip off to sleep’! She could not help but come up with the horrible comparison of an animal being put to sleep to prevent its further suffering.

She looked from the sickly—and to her lethal—looking brew to Severus, all thoughts of confrontation gone. She just wanted assurance now. “How can you be sure this is going to work on me…I mean, on a Muggle?” she asked in a panicked rush. “And how do you know the dose is right? I may not wake up for a week,” “Or for ever,” she added to herself.

Severus wanted to snap at her that he knew because he was a potions master, and he was a healer, but the sight of her bright, fearful eyes and of her slim fingers wringing together curbed the nasty impulse. He didn’t really want her to be frightened, and he had to admit—however grudgingly—that her questions were sensible.

“I can assure you, Miss Hanson, that I factored in your lack of magic when I tweaked the formula. And the dose is minimal. Enough for no more than two hours sleep. And I have the antidote here. As soon as you arrive at our location, I will awaken you.”

Erin had an irresistible image of Prince Charming leaning over a fairy tale princess in an enchanted sleep and bestowing a kiss upon her to return her to the land of the living. Her face bloomed with spectacular colour and she raised bright, embarrassed eyes to Severus’s scornful face. When he raised his eyebrows, she looked down at the tiny bottle resting on the desk.

“I might be allergic,” she whispered, and Severus fought hard to hold onto his patience, even as he wondered what had caused her embarrassment a moment before,. She was just dredging up excuses now. He picked up the phial and breaking the wax seal around the cork, he held it out to her.

“And so you might. But we will never know unless you take the draught,” he stated baldly.

Erin didn’t appreciate his blasé attitude about her wellbeing and she shot him a darkling glance. Dumbledore stepped in again. “Are you an allergic type, my dear?” he asked sensibly. Erin had to answer in the negative.

“Then I think you will be quite safe taking the draught. Severus is one of the most talented potioneers I have known in the whole of my life, and even if you were allergic to something in the brew, he would have you set to rights within seconds.”

Erin privately thought that seconds was a slight exaggeration, but not wanting to sound any more like a coward than she already did, she lifted a slightly shaking hand and took the tiny bottle. She eyed the toxic looking brew within with distaste.

“You know, Professor,” she said in a brittle voice, raising the opened bottle to her nose and sniffing the contents and grimacing. “People might be a little more willing to swallow your offerings if you added a little food colouring to make them more palatable looking.

Severus had had enough. He snatched the phial from her fingers and replaced the small cork. “Fine!” he barked. “Go without. As it is the headmaster who is to side along with you, he can put up with your weaknesses at the other end.

Long, pale fingers plucked the phial from Severus’s hand. “Thank you Severus,” said a clearly irate headmaster. He then removed the cork again and handed the draught to Erin. “Please drink it, my dear. We do need to get a move on.” Erin felt slightly ashamed but she grasped the little bottle. She raised troubled eyes to Dumbledore’s face.

“This,” she said, “is going to help me. But what about you. Sev…err, Professor Snape wasn’t very well himself after Apparating with me. I don’t want to be responsible for making you ill as well.”

“I will be fine, my dear. I have more than enough magic to carry us both.” It was another statement of fact, and Erin stopped trying to find excuses. She upended the phial and swallowed the contents, which, it turned out, was just as foul as it had looked. She thought that as soon as it hit her stomach, it would be expelled back out through her mouth. But strangely, after an initial unconscious heave, her stomach relaxed.

So did her body. Less than ten seconds after imbibing the brew, she staggered a little and as Severus was closest to her, he grasped her arm. Erin didn’t even realise he had hold of her because five seconds after that, she was fast asleep. Severus swung her slight body up into his arms and Dumbledore, instead of relieving him of his burden, led the way from the office.

Severus would normally have ranted that as it was Dumbledore who was Apparating with the Muggle, he should be the one to bear the burden of her unconscious body now. But the weight of the slight female form in his arms stilled the impulse. In the dim light of the spiral staircase, he unbent enough to look down at the still, alabaster face. A red-gold tendril of hair had come out of its confinement and was draped across her cheek and mouth. He wanted to tuck it back—to see if it was a soft as it looked—but with both hands occupied, he couldn’t. In all the times that he had touched her he had never felt her hair. When he stepped off the staircase, the large floor to ceiling window at the end of the corridor cast enough late afternoon light for Severus to be able to see the delicate tracery of blue capillaries in her closed eyelids. He only kept half an eye on his route—he knew it by heart anyway—as most of his attention was on the delicate beauty of the face that reminded him more and more of another delicate featured red head from many years ago. And he was being forced into the company of that red head’s son for who knew how long.

Three floors down, Albus stopped at the doorway to the hospital wing. Severus transferred Erin into his arms. “I will see you at the Haven, Severus. You will arrive with Harry before I do as I have to walk past the gate to the Apparition boundary.”

“You could levitate her,” suggested Severus.

“As could have you,” said Dumbledore and if there was a slight smirk in the old man’s voice, Severus chose not to hear it. “I am sure you noticed that our young friend is not at all heavy.”

“Yes,” bit out Severus. “But as I am sure you have noticed, old man, I am more than one hundred years your junior.”

“And despite appearances to the contrary my boy, I am not in my dotage. Now, I will see you within the half hour.” Albus gestured with his head towards Harry where he still lay curled up in his bed. “Be gentle with your precious cargo, Severus.”

Severus’s answer was a not unexpected sneer and he swept into the long ward. He would have loved to know exactly what the old fool’s definition of ‘dotage’ was. As he stalked to Potter’s bed, he groaned when he saw Poppy descending on him with a determined look on her face. He was most definitely not in the mood.

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Severus had placed his burden in the smallest of the three bedrooms. It was very cold on this unsheltered, side of this God forsaken island with the wind whipping in straight off the Atlantic Ocean, but the fires—and there was one in each bedroom as well as the living room—had already been lit by Dobby, who had been sent on ahead by Dumbledore to prepare the house for habitation. The fact that no one had been in the house for over a year was not evidenced by the cosy, pristine state of it now.

The elf had scurried out of this bedroom when Severus had strode in with the sleeping boy in his arms. Severus had seen him peeking around the edge of the door and when Severus had barked at him to prepare a pot of tea, the elf had immediately disapparated.

Severus adjusted the blankets around the boy’s shoulders, remembering the last time he had carried the too slight body into the hospital wing. Then, Potter’s terrible injuries had even worried him. Severus imagined that children involved in car accidents could have injuries like Potter had suffered at the hands of his uncle, but Severus had never seen a car accident victim. In fact he had never seen a child in such a grievous state of injury (he had buried any memories he had of Muggle children tortured by Death Eaters behind his strongest shields) and he had been worried that his healing skills would not be up to the task, that Harry would succumb, especially after the stress of Apparition on top of everything the Muggle had doled out.

At the very least, he knew Harry would have had another scar on his face if it had not been for Fawkes’s healing tears. Seemingly without conscious volition, Severus reached forward and brushed that thick, black fringe aside to reveal the famous scar. Severus had never really seen it up close before; he had only caught glimpses of it because Potter seemed to take great care to keep it covered.

As if from afar, he watched his own finger tracing the zigzag shape; the scar was upraised and thicker and longer than Severus had thought. He supposed he would have been surprised if it had not been a substantial wound. The terrible curse that usually caused death with no visible injury had backfired—and it had done so in a spectacular fashion. Part of the house at Godric's Hollow had been destroyed and the Dark Lord had actually been banished from his body. The curse that should have killed this boy outright when he was an infant, had not done so, but the second miracle was that the resultant catastrophic explosion had not done so either. That this scar was the only legacy of the event was definitely the miracle that everyone said it was.

When Harry drew in a very deep breath and twisted his head to the side, Severus pulled his hand back in shock, worried that the boy was going to wake. He did not want to be found hovering over the Boy Who Lived…or as they were calling him now, ‘The Chosen One’. He could just imagine Potter’s reaction to finding his hated potions professor standing over him. Things were going to be bad enough over the next however long it took, with both of them being in the same house…even with the ‘softening’ influence of Erin Hanson.

But as he stalked from the small bedroom, Severus realised that he no longer felt it appropriate to heap the sins of the father (and the Godfather) on the son. The boy came with his own, very unique problems, problems that James Potter would never have coped with half as well as his son did at the same age.

When he descended the stairs, Albus was entering the front door with an unconscious Erin still hugged to his chest. Severus stopped dead five steps from the bottom and stared at the other man with the girl in his arms. A vice seemed to tighten around Severus’s chest squeezing all the air out of his lungs. His hands tightened into fists and with a shock, he realised that he was jealous of a one hundred and fifty year old man because that man was holding a girl that he had been fantasising about since he had first seen her properly in the hospital wing.

Dumbledore glanced up and Severus was released from his paralysis. “Ah, Severus,” greeted the old man and as Severus continued his descent, Albus moved towards the sitting room. “Harry is still asleep, I take it?”

“Thank Merlin, yes,” answered Severus and he watched Dumbledore lower Erin onto a sofa. “Peace will reign for a little while longer, at least.”

Dobby sidled into view in the archway to the dining room. Albus spotted him. “Dobby. Dare I hope you have tea ready?”

‘Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Dobby has prepared tea and fruit toast for everyone. Is Professor Dumbledore wanting the tray in here, sir?”

“Thank you Dobby, that would be most welcome.” And when Dobby disappeared from sight, Albus turned to Severus. “If you would administer the antidote, my boy, we will have our pretty young Muggle back with us.”

Severus pulled another phial from his seemingly bottomless pocket and removed the wax seal from around the cork. The cork was removed with a tiny pop. Then he pulled his wand from another pocket and as he dipped it into the neck and withdrew it again with a ribbon of liquid forming an aqua stream as it flowed out, he thought that Miss Hanson would be sure to think this potion much more palatable. Especially as she didn’t have to taste it because he spelled it directly into her stomach; he placed the tip of his wand against her green top directly over where her stomach was, and watched as the ribbon of liquid seemed to be sucked into an invisible hole.

Albus had turned away to attend to the late afternoon tea that Dobby had supplied them with, so Severus didn’t feel restrained as he watched Erin wake up. He watched as she squirmed a bit, her top riding up a little to expose the same expanse of silky soft skin he had seen that first night in the hospital wing. Then those eyelids, as delicate as butterfly wings fluttered and opened and Severus watched as the beautiful dappled green irises surrounding dilated pupils began to focus and understanding seemed to rush back with amazing rapidity.

Too fast. She had focused on Severus before he could turn away and the colour rose in her cheeks as twin slashes of crimson rode high on his. Albus saved the day. He insinuated himself into the three foot of space that separated them, a cup of tea in each hand. Severus took his and moved away as Erin scrambled into a sitting position, pulling her top down self-consciously. It had ridden up even further, giving Dumbledore an eyeful and sending even more colour into Erin’s face.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, my dear. A cup of tea will be just the thing to wash away any lingering taste of potion,” he said cheerfully. “Are you feeling well?” he passed the cup of tea to her.

“Yes, I’m fine,” said Erin, in the slightly hoarse voice of someone who had just awoken after a long sleep. She didn’t understand that as she had supposedly only been asleep for less than an hour. She took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes as the soothing liquid slid down her throat. Albus held out a plate of delicious smelling fruit toast slathered with butter. Erin noticed that Severus wasn’t having any, and that he was looking at her down the length of that prominent nose, as if he couldn’t imagine anything more frivolous than eating a piece of golden toast; so she accepted a slice and took a fulsome bite of the buttery, spicy treat.

Severus turned away from her, determined that he was not going to watch her lips glistening with melted butter, or watch her lick her fingers clean. How in hell was he going to survive living under the same roof as this woman? He decided there and then that if he wasn’t with Potter doing Merlin knew what, he would be down in the basement potions lab, brewing.

Erin was looking around the room with interest. It just looked like a normal home…she supposed she had been expecting something much older; not as old as Hogwarts of course, but very old fashioned. Instead, this house was modern, light and airy, with pale walls and large windows. In this sitting room, the picture window looked out over the cliff and the massive expanse of navy blue water that Erin knew must be the Atlantic Ocean. It was an awe inspiring view and Erin found it difficult to drag her eyes away. Lots of birds were flying around the cliff faces and their muted cries just barely penetrated the windows; Erin realised that the they must be double glazed.

Erin drained her tea and feeling perfectly normal—there was absolutely no after affects of the apparition this time—she stood up and crossed to the coffee table to replace her empty cup on the tray. Severus studiously ignored her presence, taking an inordinate interest in the view, and considering he had been there before, according to Albus, Erin knew he was just trying to ignore her presence. She took a deep breath. This was going to be a torturous experience. She hoped Harry could cheer up quickly. She would need his company.

“So, Professor...how far afield am I allowed to wander before I am outside the property area?” she asked Dumbledore, who was seated comfortably in a sumptuous armchair.

Dumbledore’s empty tea cup was floating through the air and Erin watched it settle gently on the tray. He had just finished consuming his fourth slice of fruit toast and his second cup of tea. It was obvious that he was satisfyingly replete. He waved an airy hand.

“Severus will be able to give you and Harry a tour tomorrow but the property is bounded by a low hedge. The hedge’s thickness is magically enhanced because the winds that blow across this island are so laden with salt and so strong, little in the way of foliage grows.

“But inside the hedge boundary, you are protected by the enchantment. Of course, the cliff face is the boundary to the west.”

Dumbledore caught Severus’s eye and when he returned those periwinkle blue orbs protected by their half moon spectacles to Erin, there was regret there. “I am afraid that there will be more than the Fidelius Charm protecting the property Erin. That stops unwelcome visitors getting in. Our Mr Potter is quite the intrepid young wizard, and if he decides that he wants to leave the property, even with express orders not to do so, he will make every attempt to do it.

“Severus and I will be erecting wards that Harry will be unable to breach. They will also keep you within the property boundaries. The only way either of you will be able to leave is if Severus takes you beyond them himself.”

Erin turned away to look at the view again. “So, Harry and I are prisoners?”

“You may leave any time you please, my dear. It is my wish however that you will stay…for Harry.”

Erin rounded on the two wizards. “You make it seem as if Harry’s a wild animal,” she accused.

Dumbledore shook his head. “No, Erin. I could not love Harry more than if he were a grandson—or perhaps great, great, great grandson would be more the mark—but you must understand that that child rushes in where angels fear to tread. Everything I have done or have attempted to do for Harry in his lifetime, has been for his protection.

“Since he was just over a year old when his parents died, I have been responsible for Harry’s protection. It was a proviso in Lily and James’s will, if their first choice of protector—his godfather—was not able to take up his responsibilities. He was not able, and I did the thing I thought would keep Harry safest.”

Severus raised his eyebrows at this pronouncement. He had not known that Lily and James had named Albus in their will as Harry’s guardian after Black. He had always wondered how Albus had been able to stave off attempts by the ministry to take over Harry’s upbringing—making him a ward of the ministry.

He tuned back into his bosses voice.

“It did keep him safe from the evil that still abounded in our world, but I did not factor in the cruelty of his aunt and her husband. That was my most egregious error, but I do not apologise for the rest of my actions. Harry is still alive, and he would not be if I had not taken the actions that I did. Including this action.

Erin’s righteous anger deflated, although not entirely. Professor Dumbledore had given her certain information, but Erin still had no idea why Harry was such a target…had been since he was a baby. How could a baby be a danger to anyone, or indeed a young child?

She knew she was not going to be told everything, at least, not today. And she really wanted to help Harry. In a very short period of time, she had befriended him, and that friendship had progressed to a very real affection. There was something about Harry Potter that cried out to her…well, she didn’t know whether it was her maternal instincts—she didn’t even know if she had maternal instincts yet—but he certainly pulled some string that was firmly attached to her heart. So, she was here on a voluntary basis. She was not here on a tit for tat basis…I will help Harry if you tell me exactly what’s going on with him.

The old man might very well love Harry, but she had not seen any evidence of even liking in the Black-hearted Prince’s attitude to him. Harry definitely needed her here as a buffer if things got a little tense.

“So, unless you plan to keep Harry asleep as a means of keeping him in place, perhaps it’s time to wake him up,” she said, starting as she meant to go on…as Harry’s advocate.

“Most definitely,” assured Dumbledore. But Severus and I will need to construct the wards first. It will take us about fifteen minutes.” Erin’s lips thinned with irritation, but she held her tongue and watched the two men exit the front door. She would have gone out with them, but it was very cold and Erin’s top was very light. She shut the front door and went to stand at the picture window, watching the two tall wizards—one in his flamboyant plum coloured robes and the other in austere black—for as long as she could see them, walking around the perimeter with their wands drawn and their lips moving as they obviously uttered spells that would erect some kind of invisible cage to keep Harry locked up. No matter how many different ways you spelt it, Harry was a prisoner.

8888

Dumbledore only came back into the house to say goodbye to Erin. He said he thought it would be better for Harry if he did not have to interact with more people than necessary, certainly for the first few days anyway.

After taking Erin’s hand in his and patting it with his other, he thanked her again for her assistance. And after sending a significant look in Severus’s direction, he reached into a seemingly very old etched bronze goblet that had pride of place on the mantelpiece and withdrew something that turned out to be glittery green powder. He threw the powder into the flames and they immediately flared up and turned emerald green. Erin fell back a step in shock, and then to her horror, she watched the old man step into the flames. Instinctively, she cried out but the noise of distress was cut off when the flames engulfed Dumbledore and he disappeared. He had called something out before he had disappeared, but Erin had not heard what he had said.

She stared, mesmerised as the green flames died down and returned to their normal yellow and red. It took quite a few seconds for her paralysis to wear off, and then she turned her head to where she knew Severus was standing. She gestured at the fireplace and shook her head, her eyes wide and demanding an explanation.

“The headmaster is travelling back to the hospital wing via the floo network,” explained Severus. He passed her and dipped his fingers into the goblet. He indicated that Erin hold out her hand and then he trickled a small amount of the floo powder into her palm. “That is floo powder and it cools the flames down to just barely warm.

“Wizards often travel by floo. Most wizarding homes are connected to the floo network, though this connection was opened by Dumbledore so that I could transport Potter directly here. He has probably already closed it again, as it is not part of the normal network.”

Erin rubbed the powder against her palm with the middle finger of her other hand. It felt like a very fine grit and it sparkled and shone in the artificial light that seemed to have illuminated the rapidly darkening room in the last few minutes. Full darkness had nearly fallen outside now.

“That is how I transported Potter here,” added Severus.

“Erin reached up on tiptoe—the mantel was very high—and tipped the small amount of powder back into the goblet. She rubbed her hands free of the residue over the fire, not surprised this time to see a little green mixing with the yellow and red flames and hearing an increased crackling that had nothing to do with the burning wood.

“So why couldn’t the headmaster get me here this way,” asked Erin. The question was purely academic. The thought of being engulfed in flames, even if they were emerald green, filled her with horror. But it turned out her horror was not misplaced this time.

“You definitely need magic to travel by floo. It is the combination of the powder and a wizards magic that stops us from being burned. The air current created by the flames within the fireplace and chimney or flue, carries the wizard forward through the network to his designated destination, by the shortest route.

Erin had been gazing into the flames during this explanation. When Severus fell silent, she nodded her understanding, though she knew she would never really understand, and not just the mechanics of floo travel. Then she turned to face him. “I want to thank you for the medicine…er, potion you made to help me withstand the journey. Also, the antidote. I had no discomfort at all this time.” Severus inclined his head slightly and Erin rushed on.

“I’m also sorry that I made such a fuss about taking it in the first place. I hate taking medicine at the best of times,” she added on lamely.

“It is good to know the potion worked as well as it did. Further side along Apparition should not be a problem for you from here on out.”

Erin sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be too many more instances of side along Apparition for her, but she supposed there would be at least one…to get her back to Hogwarts when this incarceration was finished.

Just then, Dobby appeared in the archway again, wringing his little hands together. “Miss,” he squeaked. “Is you wanting your cat to be freed from the basket now. She has woken up miss, and she is not very happy.

“Oh!” Erin covered her mouth, looking horrified that she had forgotten about the cat. Severus rolled his eyes slightly, but luckily Erin failed to see. “Where is she Dobby. I forgot all about her.”

“She is being put in your room miss. She is snarling and hissing now.”

“Which is my room?” she asked distractedly, heading for the stairs.

“I will be showing miss.” Responded Dobby and he started to rush forward.

“That wont be necessary,” said Severus. “I will show Miss Hanson to her room. Perhaps you could get on with preparing a meal for us all.”

Dobby’s ears drooped and he looked at Severus fearfully. “Yes, sir, Professor Snape sir, and he disapparated.

Erin, who had watched this exchange pursed her lips together angrily and when Severus reached her where she was standing on the bottom stair, she said, “a thank you would not have gone astray.”

Severus stared at her as if she was mad. “He is a house elf. He does not need thanking. It is his job to do as he is told.”

Erin glared at him. She opened her mouth, and then obviously not able to think of anything cutting enough to say, she clenched her fists and let out a huff of disgust before turning and hurrying up the stairs. Severus followed in her wake, amused by her attitude. She would learn, he thought to himself. If she was going to be living amongst wizards, she would learn how things worked.

Erin’s bedroom was much smaller than the one she had been designated at Hogwarts but very attractive non-the-less. Though it was now totally dark, she knew that her window, over which mother-of-pearl coloured drapes with a very fine tracery of fern leaves were pulled shut, faced he cliff and the ocean.

When Pumpkin had been released and soothed and left to explore her new surroundings—her first port of call being Severus’s trouser bottoms where she rubbed herself and purred shamelessly, much to Severus’s feigned and Erin’s actual annoyance—they had both progressed to Harry’s room to wake the boy up.

“Ten minutes Potter! Not a minute more.” Severus swept from the bedroom, his robes billowing magnificently.

Erin glared after his retreating back and after she had directed many scathing, but totally silent comments at his back—everyone of which was written boldly across her face—she turned back to the sullen teen who was sitting propped against the headboard with his arms clamped tightly around his chest, glaring at his covered knees.

Erin sat gingerly on the side of the bed and put a placating hand on Harry’s arm. When he didn’t flinch it off, she rubbed his arm in a comforting gesture. “I know this is a shock, Harry.”

Harry’s head snapped up and he looked at Erin incredulously. “A shock!” he ejaculated. “You think?” He flung the covers back and sprang out of the bed, his feet encountering warm carpet. Erin regained her feet and watched as Harry strode to the window. He yanked the closed drape aside and glared out into the ink black night. He could see absolutely nothing, not least because he didn’t have his glasses on.

As Erin watched the tension seemed to drain out of Harry and his shoulders drooped. He leaned forward so that his forehead was resting against the cool glass. It felt good against his burning scar. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled without turning around. “I suppose you were corralled into this without being given much choice either.”

“I didn’t have to think very hard, Harry. I wanted to be here for you.” And Harry couldn’t doubt the absolute sincerity in her voice. He let out a deep sigh before letting the drape drop back into place and crossing back to the bed. He stared at Erin intently and she belatedly realised that he didn’t have his glasses on. She wondered how bad his eyesight was.

“Why?” Harry asked. “Not that I’m complaining. If I have to be in prison, I’m glad you’re here with me, but you have to put up with that git too.” He cocked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the door through which Snape had disappeared.

Erin's cheeks reddened a little but Harry didn’t notice. He turned towards the little table standing beside the bed, looking for his glasses. He squinted down at the bare surface and when he didn’t see the distinctive shape, he ran his hand over it just to make sure. “Err…can you see my glasses anywhere,” he asked embarrassedly.

“They’re not here, Harry. Professor Snape transported you here so I suppose he kept your glasses for safekeeping. Dobby put all your things away, but I don’t imagine that he hid your glasses out of sight.” Harry looked up at her and scowled. “Then why didn’t Snape give them back? I suppose he’s got my wand too, the git. His plan is probably to keep me blind and wandless. That way, I wont be able to cause too much trouble.” His voice was bitter.

“I imagine he just forgot about them, Harry,” said Erin in a reasonable tone. “The atmosphere wasn’t exactly conducive to clear thinking after Professor Snape woke you and told you where we are and why.”

Harry looked at her incredulously. “You couldn’t expect me to take all of that lying down!” he squawked. “Being spelled awake after being spelled asleep, again. Then discovering that I’m in a strange room in a strange house in a strange part of the world and being told that I will be here with only that ponce for company for however long he and Professor Dumbledore feel that I need to be isolated from the rest of the world…” His voice had become louder as this diatribe had continued and at the end of it, he deflated again before groaning and throwing himself backwards onto the bed, his legs still hanging over the side.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again.

Erin sat back on the opposite side of the bed and looked down at him. He looked so pathetic, she couldn’t help running her fingers through his fringe, brushing it to the side, exposing his scar as she did so. Harry couldn’t help it, he flinched his head away from her touch. He didn’t like anyone touching the scar, and especially not when it was burning as it had been since he had woken up in the hospital wing two days ago.

Erin clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Harry scrubbed his hands hard over his face and let out a frustrated, ‘Arrrgh’.

“No, I’m sorry. Sorry for being a total pain in the arse. If it wasn’t for me, you would still be at home in your parent’s house without much of a care in the world, not stuck on some God forsaken Scottish Island in the middle of the bloody Atlantic Ocean with no one for company except a mental kid and a bad tempered git of a potions professor.”

“What happened at Privet drive was not you fault, Harry…”

“Of course it was my bloody fault!” he flared again through his fingers. “Everything that happens until that bastard manages to kill me—because I sure as hell aren’t going to be able to kill him—is my fault. He wants me dead and until that happens, other innocent people are going to keep getting killed.” Harry was having a hard time keeping tears at bay and his voice was thick with them.

Erin swallowed her own distress. She leaned on one elbow and pulled one of Harry’s hands away from his face. “Stop talking like that,” she said angrily. “I don’t know why this horrible, horrible wizard wants you dead Harry, but I do know that you are just as innocent as any of the poor people who have already died. From what I know, he’s been after you since you were a baby. What can a baby have done to make a man want to kill him?”

She knew she wasn’t going to get an answer right then but she was determined that she was going to find out what this whole mess was about…why a powerful wizard whom it seemed had the power to be anything he wanted had decided that murder and mayhem were the order of the day, and why he would not rest until his unnatural obsession to murder Harry was appeased.

She leaned over and kissed Harry on the cheek before springing to her feet. She ignored the red that washed into his face as a result of her affectionate gesture. “Now come on,” she said firmly. “I imagine eight of your allotted ten minutes have already gone, so you had better get a move on. Besides, Dobby will be upset if his meal goes to waste.

Erin moved briskly to the wardrobe and opened the door wide. “She gestured at his newly laundered clothes which hung in perfectly ironed regimentation or were folded neatly on the top shelf. “Dobby has everything all laid out for you. I don’t imagine you want to go down to dinner in your pyjamas.” She grinned at Harry where he was propped up on his elbows, watching her blurred figure. “You’ll feel better able to cope with Professor Snape if you’re dressed.”

Then she crossed to the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

&

When Erin quietly entered the sitting room, she found Severus with a glass of red wine in his hand, gazing into the dancing flames in the fireplace. He had a booted foot resting on the edge of the brick step upon which the fire had been set. He looked up and Erin’s breath caught in her throat. His fathomless black eyes seemed to have captured some of the flames because even though he was now looking away from the fire, the warmth of the flames seemed to be caught in his eyes. His face had also fallen into softened lines, but as soon as he focused on her, his muscles tightened into their habitual stiffness.

Severus reached up onto the high mantel and lifted down another glass of deep crimson wine. Erin’s mouth nearly dropped open in shock, but she managed to fight her automatic negative reaction to his thoughtfulness. She joined him at the fireplace and took the glass, inclining her bright head in thanks.

Severus was mesmerised by that brightness. It was as if the flames were dancing around her head. He wound his fingers tightly into the palm of his free hand. The desire to touch those tresses was almost overwhelming. He still had not touched that hair—ran his fingers through it—and the temptation was bringing him undone. He dragged his eyes away and focused on the real flames again, falling back on his usual behaviour of ill tempered sneers to cover up his preoccupation with all things Erin Hanson.

“So, the idiot child has had his fill of coddling for the time being?”

Erin knew she shouldn’t let him get to her, but she couldn’t help it. Every time he opened his mouth and spewed forth another dose of vitriol, she flared up. She could not remember another person—not even her ex-husband—who had ever wound her up quite as much as Severus Snape did.

“Well, after being verbally flailed by you, a little coddling was definitely in order, I think. In case you’ve forgotten Professor Snape, it is not even three days ago that Harry was beaten half to death; he found out that his aunt and cousin had been killed in a car accident and that most of his neighbours had also been killed when the evil wizard who is after his hide, wreaked vengeance and decimated their quiet suburban street.

“And he blames himself for all of that…blames himself for things that he has absolutely no control over,” Erin added furiously. She took a large gulp of wine to try and calm herself down.

Severus watched her run the index finger of her free hand over her top lip to remove the residue of the ruby liquid which had clung to the delicate pink. The urge to grasp the back of her head and pull her face to his so that he could lick her lips clean was overwhelming, but she spun away from him before he could act on his idiotic impulse.

He returned his eyes to the flames, cursing his infatuation with her. But he quickly looked at her again when she spun back to face him and said in a voice that had lost none of its anger. “And he is just barely sixteen years old! How old are you, Professor Snape?”

Severus held her furious gaze. He stared haughtily down his nose at her because what he wanted to do was grab her and kiss her and showing disdain was his armour…his protection. He was sure that she despised him and he was becoming more and more obsessed with her by the minute. Holding her in his arms today, even if she had been unconscious, had heightened his frustration to an alarming degree. He had not experienced feelings like this since he had been in his teens and the maturing Lily Evan’s had heated his blood to the point where he wanted to curse any other male who came within three feet of her—specifically, James Potter. Indeed, she had been the only woman he had ever felt anything for until now.

And really, why would Erin Hanson ever deign to look at him as anything more than an offensive man with a vicious tongue who had made little effort to date to hide those traits from her? Every time he had opened his mouth to her he had been his usual snide, sneering self. For Merlin’s sake, she had probably never seen anything but a sneer or a snarl gracing his ugly face. And then there was the inescapable fact that she was very fond of Potter, and that combined with the equally inescapable fact that he and the boy were bitter enemies did not make for friendly relations between Severus Snape and the Muggle.

He could not really dispute anything that she had just said either. It was all perfectly true. The boy had definitely been through hell, so why couldn’t he, Severus pull his head in? Why couldn’t he be a bigger man and treat the boy decently?

When he was around a helpless or injured Potter as he had been lately, he could admit to himself that the boy’s life was a tragedy and that he did not need any more angst heaped on top of what he had already had to deal with in his short life. When caring for a severely injured Potter, he could envisage himself treating Harry with a modicum of civility in the future. It was not too difficult to imagine himself interacting with the boy in a perfectly reasonable manner. That was precisely how he had felt upstairs, an hour and a half ago when he had touched that scar. Certainly, they did not have to become best friends—Severus couldn’t imagine anything more implausible than him becoming friendly with James Potter’s son—but he could certainly be less acerbic, less snide…less aggressive. And perhaps a lot more grown up.

But as soon as the boy was awake, and most of the evidence of his horrifying experience at the hands of his uncle had been healed, Severus would feel all of the aggressiveness building up again. All he saw when he looked at Harry Potter’s mutinous young face was James Potter sneering at him. And even those green eyes the boy had inherited from his mother did nothing to ameliorate all the old feelings of hatred and aggression because Severus was also angry with Lily for choosing to die when she had had the opportunity to live.

Severus knew he was being totally irrational, and more than a little selfish. Harry had definitely not been responsible for his mother’s choices that terrible Halloween night fifteen years ago. He had been a baby. Lily Evan’s had always been a Gryffindor, through and through and intellectually Severus knew that she would never have stepped aside to allow the Dark Lord to kill her son. Every instinct in her body would have dictated that she stand in front of her child for as long as she could stand. She would have stood in front of James had circumstances allowed it.

Yes, intellectually, Severus did know all of this, but not being a parent—and never likely to be one—he could not project himself into Lily’s place…he could not imagine the fear and protectiveness that had precipitated Lily’s sacrifice that night. And so, he looked at Harry and all is old hatred of James and his anger at and grief for Lily drowned out any other fair and reasonable emotion that he knew he should summon when it came to his treatment of their son.

And now after five years of mistreatment, of unfair punishments and grades, of offensive and snide comments being thrown at him in front of other students, and of denying the boy the opportunity to produce a decent potion in class, Harry naturally hated him now with the same fervour that Severus had hated his father and godfather. And even if Severus could force himself to change his behaviour, what were the chances that Harry would ever be able to learn to trust him? Severus guessed negligible.

How could he explain any of this to Erin? How could he explain that a grudge that went back twenty-five years was the reason he treated Potter the way he did—was one of the reasons why he was such a despicable human being? That was not a story to inspire liking, let alone passion.

He had lost Lily’s respect and friendship because of his inherent viciousness; Potter had goaded him into losing his temper with Lily because he had been ashamed that a girl had felt the need to come to his rescue, making him look even more weak and ineffectual than Potter and Black’s ambush was already making him look.

Sensible, decent men did not go around holding grudges against a child who is totally innocent of any crime other than being the son of his schoolyard enemy and looking too much like that enemy to make letting go of all of the bitterness an seemingly impossible task. Impossible for Severus Tobias Snape anyway, a man who was the product of the mating of a cruel and vicious father and a miserable, weak mother who made little attempt to protect her child from his worthless father.

Eileen Snape, nee Prince, had been no Lily Evans. And though the younger James Potter had had the potential to turn into a Tobias Snape, he had instead matured into a decent man and an adoring father and husband. Yes, James Potter had managed to change for the better, so why couldn’t he, Severus Snape, have grown up and changed for the better?

And now that one of his major misconceptions about the boy had been disproved in such a spectacular fashion—now that he knew that Harry had grown up in a similarly miserable home to himself, tolerance for Harry Potter should come more easily. In fact, Potter’s childhood had been worse even than Severus’s. At least he had always known that he was a wizard…his mother had made sure of that. And she had loved him in her own way, she had just been too weak and ineffectual to stand up to her drunken lout of a husband. As well as being denied any kind of affection, Potter had also been denied his magical heritage for ten years. He had spent the majority of his childhood not even knowing that he was a wizard.

Severus couldn’t imagine what that must have been like.

He was recalled to his surroundings when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and a second later, Erin said, “Harry.”

Severus turned fully to look at the boy who had just slouched into the room, his face falling into sullen lines after he shot a quick smile that looked more like a grimace at Erin. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and he stared down at the filthy, boat sized trainers on his feet. Severus frowned. Surely to God Potter’s feet were not so disproportionately large compared to his slight build. But Severus was now inspecting the whole package.

What in the name of Merlin…

“If you thought to irritate me by coming down to dinner looking like you have just foraged through a rag bag, Potter, you have succeeded.”

Harry whipped his head up and glared at Severus. “Actually, sir, these clothes never quite made it to the rag bag,” responded Harry in sarcastic tones. “Aunt Petunia always inspected my cousin’s cast offs before putting them in the rag bag. These…” Harry indicated his overlarge T-shirt and cargo pants that were so long, they fell in concertina folds practically from his knees down to the top of his trainers, “passed inspection, meaning that there weren’t too many holes, and so, they were quite good enough for me.”

Severus lowered his eyes from Harry’s pugnacious face to the overlarge clothes again. They were scrupulously clean and pressed. Severus had caught a glimpse of the chaos that made up the contents of Potter’s trunk in the hospital wing not long after he had arrived there from Privet Drive. These clothes had been laundered since then.

“You cannot be telling me that the only clothes you have to your name originally belonged to that rather enormous blob I saw in the series of photographs at your relative’s home?”

“Professor Snape!” exclaimed Erin, appalled. “Harry doesn’t need reminding that his cousin…”

“Had approximately the same proportions as a Hungarian Horntail?”

Harry snorted and Erin’s mouth snapped shut, the words of censure she had been going to deliver dying in her throat. Harry had actually nearly laughed. “Actually, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Professor. I think a Norwegian Ridgeback would be closer to the mark. And in answer to your question, all my clothes except for my robes and school uniform were Dudley’s cast offs.”

“Hmm,” said Severus. He put his glass back on the mantelpiece before walking purposely towards Harry. Erin felt herself tense when she saw the older wizard draw his wand. Even without his glasses, Harry recognised the movement, and he too stiffened, but then he forced his shoulders to relax and he lifted his chin, daring Snape to hex him.

“Well, I’m sorry Potter, but looking at you dressed like that offends my sensibilities and so…” Severus flicked his wand first at the overlarge T-shirt, then the pants and then the shoes. Each time he said firmly, “Reducio.” He kept his wand pointed at each article of clothing until it had shrunk down to a size Snape was satisfied with, and then he lifted his wand. Harry even felt his socks shrink inside the trainers.

Severus nodded, satisfied with his work but then his eyebrows drew together slightly as his eyes fell on the footwear. He pointed his wand again and said firmly, “Turgio!” The trainers didn’t look new by any means after Snape’s attentions, but they were certainly greatly improved. Harry could actually see a blurry impression of white rather than grey-black.

“Err…thanks,” said Harry, and he wondered why it had never occurred to him to ask Hermione to shrink his Muggle clothes when he wore them on the weekends at Hogwarts. Both he and Ron left those sorts of fiddly spells up to Hermione, knowing as they did that their female friend was much better at them than they were. Come to think of it, he wondered why Hermione had never offered. But then he thought that maybe Hermione was being tactful by not mentioning his ill-fitting clothes.

“Here, Potter.” Severus was holding out Harry’s glasses which he had extracted from his robes. Harry took them gratefully and slipped them on, everything suddenly snapping into focus for the first time since he had woken in this house. Harry was just about to ask for his wand when they heard a little high pitched cough.

Erin, Severus and Harry looked around. Dobby was standing in the archway into the dining room. “Excuse me Professor Snape, sir.” Dobby’s eyes were darting between Harry and Severus. Severus raised his eyebrows impatiently and Dobby rushed on, now determinedly keeping his huge eyes on Hogwart’s most intimidating Professor, even though it was obvious that all he wished to do was gaze worshipfully at Harry. “Dobby has dinner ready, sir. Will you be wanting it now or would you be wanting Dobby to keep it warm?”

Severus didn’t deign to answer. He just plucked his glass from the mantelpiece and headed for the dining room. Erin followed him but she gave Dobby a grateful smile. “Thank you Dobby.”

Dobby gave her a shy smile in return which increased in voltage for Harry. He bowed low. “Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is very happy that Professor Dumbledore asked me to come here to cook and clean for you.”

“Hi, Dobby,” said Harry, embarrassed as usual by the little elf’s effusiveness. “I’m glad you’re here too.” He patted Dobby’s thin shoulder and then entered the dining room to see a table so laden with food, it looked as though it would collapse at any moment. It all looked Hogwart’s delicious, but Harry was afraid that Dobby still thought he was feeding the masses instead of just three people. Harry seated himself opposite Erin who was looking slightly bemused at the amount of food. There was a choice of at least six different main dishes as well as several tureens of vegetables and a choice of boiled, mashed, scalloped and roasted potatoes, as well as chips. There were three tureens of different soups and a choice of crème brulee, apple and rhubarb crumble, strawberry cheesecake and treacle tart for dessert.

“Wow, Dobby,” said Harry with a laugh. “Are you expecting guests?” Severus was sitting with his elbows on the arm of the dining chair and the back of a long index finger stroking his lips. If he was annoyed by the amount of food, he wasn’t saying anything for the moment.

Dobby flashed another toothy grin at Harry. “Oh, no, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby just wanted to make sure that there was something that you liked.”

Harry’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. “Umm…thanks Dobby but I’m not really that fussy. There’s not really much that I don’t eat…well, when I've got an appetite, that is…”

Dobby’s ears didn’t have time to droop very far before Severus’s stern voice chimed in. “In future, you will confine yourself to serving one choice of soup, one choice of main, and one choice of dessert. Mr Potter does not have any aspirations to end up the same size as his cousin. Is that clear?”

Dobby’s ears were now flat against the sides of his head and he was wringing his little hands piteously. His huge, tennis ball eyes were rather moist. “Yes, Professor Snape, sir.”

Severus could feel the censure in both Erin’s and Harry’s eyes but he remained focused on the elf. He gestured at the table. “Get rid of everything but the broccoli soup, the roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, carrots, pumpkin and peas, and the crème brulee.”

Dobby approached the table looking so pathetic that Erin wanted to hug him. She had an equally strong desire to smack Severus Snape. The amount of food that was on display was certainly obscene, but the Prince could have been a little less harsh with the little elf. She watched as Dobby clicked his fingers and all the dishes of food except for those that Severus had itemised disappeared. Erin glanced over at Harry who was looking stony faced.

Dobby bowed low to Severus then shuffled off towards what Erin presumed was the kitchen. “Thank you, Dobby,” she called after the dejected little figure. Severus, paused in the act of pouring more wine. He raised his eyes to look at Erin without lifting his head making him look quite sinister.

“You do not have to thank the house-elf,” he said, sounding as exasperated as he did when lecturing students. Erin raised her chin several notches.

“I think there’s always a need to show common human decency,” she said defiantly. She reached for the tureen of soup and began ladling it into bowls, mumbling as she did so. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

“Elves aren’t human,” he informed her, choosing to ignore the mumbled aside, even though he would have to be very hard of hearing not to have heard it.

Erin passed him a bowl of the creamy, green soup. “No, but I am. And I make it a habit of thanking anyone who does something for me.” She looked at him pointedly. “Just like I thanked you earlier for doing something for me.”

Severus just shook his head as if he despaired for her sanity before concentrating on his soup. Fuming, Erin kept her furious gaze on him as she passed the next bowl to Harry. It was a few seconds before she realised that he had not taken it and she transferred her gaze to him. “Harry?” she said, questioningly.

Harry relieved her of the bowl, but when he placed it on the table, he pushed it away. “Thanks,” he said. “But I would have actually preferred the French onion soup.” Severus glanced up, noticing for the first time that Potter looked extremely put out. There eyes met.

“And not only that, but I prefer roast chicken to roast beef and treacle tart to crème brulee.”

Severus placed his spoon very precisely on the soup plate and then sat back, his hands resting on his flat stomach, fingers entwined. Let the games begin. Erin looked between the two of them anxiously. “You told the elf that you weren’t fussy,” Severus pointed out calmly.

“I said I wasn’t that fussy,” countered Harry. “A choice of two would have been nice.”

“Potter, I know for a fact that you eat anything that is not nailed down…when you have an appetite, that is.”

“Yeah…well, tonight I felt like onion soup, roast chicken and my very favourite, treacle tart.”

“Well…tonight, you have this.”

“Why do you get to make the choice? Why can’t we pick individually what we want?”

“Because you are not at Hogwarts, Potter. And we have only one house elf.” Severus’s voice was becoming tight with irritation. He leaned towards Harry. “You are just being perverse for the sake of making a fuss.”

“And I haven’t got a right to make a fuss, I suppose? I haven’t got the right to be irritated because I've been spirited off to the ends of the Earth with you as my jailor?” Harry stood and pushed his chair in, gripping the top of the padded back tightly. “Does Dumbledore think that I'm so mental that I have to be isolated away from…” he drew quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “normal people.”

He began pacing up and down. “Why not just lock me up in the mental ward at St Mungos then.” He tapped his scar with a rigid index and middle finger. “Surely this bloody mark qualifies me for the spell damage ward. Most people think I’m mental anyway. Rita Skeeter made sure of that. Not to mention the Ministry.”

Severus banged his hand down on the table—hard. Dishes jumped and pieces of cutlery clinked together. Erin jumped in fright. Harry stopped pacing and stood still, his jaw working as he ground his back teeth together. “That is enough,” ground out Severus. “Nobody thinks you are mental, as you so eloquently put it. You are here so that you have room to come to terms with what has been happening around you lately. But tomorrow morning will be time enough to discuss this, Potter.

“You can go to bed if you're not interested in eating the food that has been left on the table. Miss Hanson and myself will be better able to enjoy our meal without the appetite suppressing presence of a petulant teenager.”

Harry looked at Erin and then back at Snape. Erin had to bite her tongue to stop herself from stepping in on Harry’s behalf. It was quite obvious that Harry was deliberately picking a fight with Snape. She was surprised that the Prince had kept his usually volatile temper under relative control. She wanted to support Harry because she knew that he had had a lot to cope with…hence the reason they were here in the wilds of the Hebrides, but she did not want to block the Prince at every turn. They really needed to work together to help Harry.

So Erin said gently. “Do you want to eat, Harry?”

“No,” snapped Harry, but then he seemed to realise whom it was he had snapped at and he tacked on an embarrassed, “thanks.”

“Then you are excused, Potter. Breakfast will be served at eight AM. I trust a sleep will have improved your manners somewhat,” said Severus with finality. He picked up his spoon again and dipped it in his soup.

Harry stood uncertainly, part of him wanting to storm out, to get well away from Snape, but another part of him wanting to stick around to annoy the git. “How long do I have to stay here?” he demanded.

“Until I think that you are sufficiently in control of your emotions to be around other people.”

“I can be around other people!” exclaimed Harry, outraged. “What, do you and Dumbledore think that I’m going to hex someone? One of my friends?”

Severus’s look said “we are not willing to take the chance.”

“I don’t lose control that easily!” Harry bit out, convinced now that Dumbledore must definitely think he was completely mental. “I'm not Malfoy. He’s the one who pulls his wand on fellow students all the time.”

Severus raised his eyebrows. With a sigh, he put his spoon down again and subjected Harry to his most intimidating glare. “That is a claim that will need proving Potter…”

“You know it’s true. When you took points from me in the entrance hall just before the end of term for having my wand pointed at Malfoy, he was the one who started that…threatened to kill me in fact.”

“You were the one with your wand out.”

“Yeah, that’s because I’m better than him…quicker than him.”

“And you were the one who was caught with your wand pointed at another student,” Severus pointed out reasonably.

“Of course I was,” said Harry, his accompanying sneer almost worthy of Severus himself. “But if it had been Malfoy you caught, I bet you wouldn’t have taken points from him. And you know what else, sir…if Malfoy had beaten me to get his wand out, you would have had to not take points from him for actually hexing another student. Because he wouldn’t have hesitated.”

Harry was getting into his stride now. “And, you would have taken points from me for provoking the shitty little ferret and his warthog sidekicks.”

Severus could feel Erin’s eyes as they slid from Potter to him. He had one eyebrow raised in question. He could have strangled the little pimp. This was definitely going to improve her opinion of him.

“I refuse to sit here, Potter and listen to your beefs against me. I am the teacher and the head of Slytherin house…you are the rule-breaking Gryffindor. Now, before I start deducting points and keeping a tally so that I can subtract them at the beginning of term, I suggest you do as you were told earlier and go to bed.”

Harry felt something brushing against his ankles and he looked down to see Pumpkin slinking in and out of his slightly parted feet. He bent down and scooped her up, bringing her right up to his face and rubbing his chin against the top of her head. Immediately her purrs increased in volume. Some of the anger drained out of Harry as he held the contented feline. He looked at Snape, his eyes empty.

“Good luck trying to take points from Gryffindor when the person you’re punishing is no longer a student at Hogwarts.” And with that little gem hanging in the air, Harry left the room, Pumpkin still clasped in his arms.

Severus sat very still, gazing down at his nearly empty soup bowl, his appetite totally gone. He was fully aware when Erin’s shocked eyes left the space where Potter had just disappeared from and fastened on him again. He looked up and met her gaze.

“Gryffindors have a tendency towards the dramatic,” he said in a throw away, unconcerned voice. He reached for the platter of roast beef and began serving up portions of it and the accompanying vegetables. He needed to keep busy, even though he wouldn’t be eating any of this meal that Potter had also disdained. Though Severus was sure that that little scene had been a case of the idiot boy cutting off his nose to spite his face.

“He sounded pretty convincing to me,” observed Erin. Severus leaned forward to pass her a laden plate. Erin looked at it as if it was poison, not really in the least surprised that it was still piping hot. She took it out of his hand none-the-less, placing it down in front of her. She reached for the gravy but only poured a tiny dribble onto the steaming meat before picking up her knife and fork and making a show of cutting a piece of the tender beef. “Did you have to be so authoritarian? Couldn’t you have just pandered to his little fit of pique. He was only trying to push your buttons.”

“He succeeded,” said Severus as he put his own plate down and poured the rich dark gravy over his meat before picking up his knife and fork. “I am not used to pandering to students’ ‘fits of pique’.

“Unless that student is in your own house perhaps. This Malfoy sounds like a favourite of yours. Perhaps you pander to him? Harry thinks you do.” A morsel of food found its way into her mouth but she chewed mechanically, with no evident enjoyment.

“I do not pander to Malfoy,” returned Severus stiffly. “He and Potter have been enemies since the day they started at Hogwarts. “The relationship between Gryffindors and Slytherins is…shall we say, one of intense rivalry.” Severus was meticulously cutting a square of meat. “It is a very rare thing for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to be friends with each other.” There was something—was it regret?—in his voice when he said this and Erin peered at him closely. He was studying his forkful of meat intently before raising it to his mouth.

Severus was fully aware of Erin’s scrutiny, and he emptied his face of all emotion. After watching him chewing stiffly for several seconds, Erin returned to her own meal. They each ate in a strained silence for another minute but Severus soon became aware that his dinner companion was just toying with her food. After that first mouthful, Erin had not eaten any more. He knew this even though he appeared to be concentrating on his own meal, because he had become so obsessed with that mouth, he was aware of everything that passed her lips if he was near at hand.

After consuming little more than three forkfuls himself, the sight of his still laden plate made him feel slightly nauseated. Damn and blast Potter to hell! Since when did a sulking Gryffindor make him lose his appetite? After several more minutes during which both of them just toyed with their food, Severus set his knife and fork down.

“I take it that you will not object if I dispense with this?” Severus indicated their virtually full plates. Erin sighed and shook her head, placing her knife and fork together on the side of the plate.

“My appetite seems to have disappeared,” she said, feeling guilty because of all the work Dobby had gone to preparing the copious amounts of food that no one had eaten.

“Dobby!” called Severus, and the house-elf appeared, looking more than a little fearful.

“You is calling Dobby, sir?” he squeaked, bowing low.

“You may get rid of all of this except for the desert. And, then you can serve coffee,” ordered Severus as if he was addressing a slave.

“Actually,” said Erin, looking pointedly at Severus before transferring a friendlier look to Dobby, “I would prefer tea, if it’s not too much trouble, thank you Dobby. And the meal was delicious, but none of us was particularly hungry after the excitement of the day, I'm afraid. Thank you for all your hard work, though.” And ignoring Severus’s glower, she smiled at Dobby who offered her the merest trace of a smile back.

“You is welcome, miss,” he said, but Erin could tell he was still sad. He clicked his fingers and the full plates and the remainders of the meat and vegetables disappeared. Another click and two cups and saucers appeared, along with a silver teapot and coffee pot, a jug of milk, a dish of lemon slices and a bowl of sugar. Then with another little bow, Dobby disappeared.

Reaching for the coffee pot, Severus opened his mouth to speak but Erin beat him to the punch. “Don’t you dare say that I don’t need to thank the house-elf. He put in a lot of effort to make that meal and none of us ate anything except a little soup and a mouthful or two of the roast.”

Severus took a sip of his coffee and when he lowered his cup, he reached for one of the individual serve bowls of crème brulee. He placed it down in front of Erin before taking another for himself. “And the desert,” he drawled.

Erin stared at him for a second, and then she lowered her head so that he couldn’t see her lips twitch. She picked up her spoon. “And the desert,” she conceded.

The next five minutes were spent in silence as they both devoured the delicious, creamy confection and then sipped their drinks. Erin was surprised that the silence was not uncomfortable. She was quite happy to be sitting there now that the antagonism seemed to have left the room. She had been expecting more argument along the lines of it being totally unnecessary to show a little creature that seemed to be very low in the magical social hierarchy any kind of consideration.

That thought depressed her almost as much as the thought that the usually dour man seated across from her really seemed to despise Harry. What was it about this boy that seemed to provoke such strong emotions in people, whether they be positive ones such as she had seen displayed by Geppetto, Remus, Tonks and Minerva, or the negative ones that Severus and the Dursleys demonstrated. And then there was the hatred and wrath of this Lord Voldemort and his henchmen…their determination to capture and kill Harry. She had to know what the story was behind that, and she knew the man sitting here with her could tell her.

Erin was unable to explain fully herself why she had become enamoured of the young boy so quickly. She acceded that finding him almost passing out on the Dursley’s front lawn had given her a huge nudge. But what was it about him that had made her practically drag him home and feed him? Sure, he looked as if a good breath of wind would blow him away...he really was far too skinny, and he was very cute with his untidy hair and his beautiful, emerald green eyes and obscenely long eyelashes. And the round, wire-rimmed glasses definitely gave him a heartbreakingly, needy appearance. And then there was the obvious neglect he had suffered at the hands of his family and the total lack of any feeling other than hatred that they projected towards Harry. Well really, was it any wonder Harry Potter had stolen her heart? She did not really have to analyse why; it had just happened.

Erin was startled when Severus pushed his chair back and stood up. “Shall we adjourn to the sitting room?” he asked politely, and at Erin's assenting nod, he was behind her chair to pull it out in a second. Erin flushed to the roots of her hair.

“Th…thank you,” she stammered stupidly. Severus seemed to regret his flash of gallantry because instead of waiting for her to lead the way, he stalked off ahead and had thrown himself down in the chair Dumbledore had sat in earlier that evening. She hid her annoyance and instead of seating herself, she hovered behind the other chair, her fingers running over the soft butter yellow leather. Severus ignored her, his fingers were steepled in front of his mouth and he was glaring into the fire.

“Umm…” Erin began nervously, and then she berated herself. Why should she be nervous. Severus Snape was just a man. Irascible, cold and indifferent, but just a man, none the less. She drew herself up. “I think I’ll go to bed. It’s been a very long day and I’m tired, even after my enforced nap earlier.”

Severus stared at her before returning his gaze to the fire. “As you wish,” he drawled indifferently.

“I think I’ll take some food up and see if Harry might like something to eat now. I don’t like the thought of him going all night without food in his stomach.”

“Potter had the same opportunity to eat as we did,” Severus bit out, but he took a breath as though deliberately calming himself, then waved a languid hand and added, “do as you wish. You will anyway.”

Unable to stop herself, Erin burst out, “I’m glad we got that straight!” and then she disappeared back into the dining room and presumably to the kitchen. But a few minutes later when she was climbing the stairs with a small tray supporting a plate of treacle tart and a cup of tea, Erin no longer felt defiant. She felt miserable, and that feeling was exacerbated when she found Harry curled into a tight ball, buried under his covers with Pumpkin sleeping in the space made by his curled body. Both were sound asleep, her cat’s purrs filling the room.

She didn’t want to go back down and have Severus smirk at her, so she left the tray, telling herself she would retrieve it in the morning. She entered her own room, shutting the door quietly behind her, realising as she did so that she had no idea where Severus was going to be sleeping.

8888

Severus spelled off the lights to his basement lab, stifling a yawn as he did so. Two-thirty! What kind of a fool was he? He should have dragged himself off to bed at least two hours ago, but he had been too caught up in his experiment by then. He had meant to have a reasonably early night, considering that he had been roaming around the ruins of Privet Drive and adjacent streets until God only knew what time last night. It had not occurred to him to use a summoning charm until he had been traipsing around for over two hours, jumping at shadows and trying to stick to the shadows as much as possible while he poked about, looking for a bloody black cat in the bloody dark.

He had felt guilty because of his boorish attitude towards Erin throughout their trip to London, culminating as it had done with him apparating to Hogwarts with her as a side-along passenger…and this only hours after having told her how Muggles did not take kindly to side-along apparition.

But it was more than that. Erin had been greatly distressed about her missing cat, and that on top of not being able to see her parents had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Having had to explain to her parents that their house was gone had been very difficult and very upsetting. She had been very close then to disregarding his warnings about the Dark Lord finding her even if she went to Australia…for that was what she had convinced herself she wanted to do. And he knew even then that he did not want her to go to Australia. Finding the cat had been the only thing that he could think of to do to curb her impetuous decision to leave the country. So, he had gone to search for a pet that might very well have been dead.

Erin Hanson was a clever, brave, resilient and determined woman. It had not taken him long to discover this. She very much had a mind of her own and did not like being told what to do. She did not like being kept in the dark either. Severus had known very quickly that she stirred something in him that had been asleep for a very long time. He was attracted to her.

After their day in London, he had known he was in too deeply to be able to back out easily. He had given her a hard time, in an attempt to keep her at arms length, but it had been pointless. He knew that now. He had known it then too, but he had refused to think about it. He had thrust the attraction as deeply behind his strongest shields as he could. But it would not stay there. Every time he had seen her, or even heard her, or, God help him, smelled her, that indomitable emotion would worm its way back out through some infinitesimal crack in his defences and assail his mind again.

He had not been attracted to another woman since his school days. After Lupin had stunned Severus’s would be assailant in Potter’s bedroom at Privet Drive, Severus could remember staring at the unconscious woman. But he had not really registered anything about her other than the fact that she was—thankfully, considering her plans to alter his state of health—unconscious. He had been processing too many emotions at the time to really take her in…amazement that a Muggle would have nearly brained him except for the timely arrival of Remus Lupin, worry over Potter’s condition (and who would have ever imagined that circumstance) and then the impending arrival of his fellow Death Eaters.

It wasn’t until he had seen Erin bloodied and injured in the hospital wing that Severus had really felt the first stirrings of attraction. He had hidden it well, he was sure, because Minerva had been watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn’t touch, nor indeed, see any more bare flesh than was strictly necessary. It was there in the hospital wing that he had first been amazed by the young woman’s resilience…amazed that she had not ended up screaming hysterically after Albus had revived her and she had slowly grasped just what kind of reality she had woken into.

8888

Severus had not thought he would ever feel attracted to another woman and he did not know what it was about this Muggle that he found so beguiling. In his opinion, she was not as beautiful as Lily Evans had been, and he had never thought that he would—nor indeed that he could—be attracted to a Muggle.

Lily, of course, had been Muggle born. Early on in their acquaintance, Severus had decided to simply ignore this fact; he had conveniently forgotten it even though he had gotten to know Lily’s Muggle parents and had genuinely liked them. The elder Evanses had treated him decently, better in fact than Severus’s own Muggle father treated him. Most of the time—when his father didn’t come home for days at a time—Severus could almost convince himself that he was not a half blood.

The Evanses were fascinated that he was a wizard and that he was able to put their minds at rest when he explained about the world of witches and wizards that their daughter would become a part of, if they were not to deny her her birthright. They were very happy that their daughter had acquired a friend who could tell her, and them, everything he knew about what it meant to be a possessor of this extremely rare talent. They had happily invited Severus into their home; they had invited him for meals and they had encouraged Lily in her friendship with him. But at the same time as he had liked and respected the elder Evanses, Severus had despised Petunia Evans, Lily’s older sister.

The likes of Petunia and her fat boyfriend, Vernon Dursley, and Severus’s own father were the sorts of Muggles Severus abhorred. And after he had lost Lily totally and irrevocably, he had convinced himself that these three specimens were what most Muggles were like. These three specimens were typical examples of those that the Dark Lord used to spread fear and enmity amongst wizards and witches…by spreading lies that Muggles would rise up against the magical world, and because of their sheer numbers, witches and wizards had much to fear. He and his followers convinced many that Muggles were ill-educated, uncouth and prejudiced against anything or anyone who was different. He spread the word that Muggles were, in fact, the lesser human beings and that they had no place in a world where magic must surely overshadow any trait or talent that any Muggle might possess. When, in his broken-hearted state, he joined the Dark Lord’s ranks, Severus had pushed the memory of the elder Evanses to the very back of his mind and locked them away behind his strongest occlumency shield.

Of course, less than a month after he had joined Lord Voldemort’s hallowed ranks, Severus had known that he had made a mistake that he could not back away from. It was only after he was a Death Eater that Severus had learned the rest of his Lord’s doctrine…that all magical humans were not equal, that pure bloods were superior to half-bloods and mudbloods—magical children born to Muggles who had no knowledge of magic within their families at all—were little better than their Muggle parents. Severus had found himself enslaved and caught in an endless round of torture and murder. The torture and deaths of men, women and children, even infants, had haunted his dreams every time he had managed to fall asleep, which, until he had gone to Albus Dumbledore for help, had not been very often. At the height of the Dark Lord’s reign of terror, Severus had spent as much time vomiting as he did eating. He had lost so much weight, he had looked like a walking skeleton. There had been no way out but death, and he had been too cowardly to take that step.

Yes, Severus had followed a terrible path because his broken heart had pushed him into the Dark Lord’s eager clutches. And now, he was thinking obsessively of another woman who had even less credentials than Lily had had in the eyes of the Dark Lord. If that creature ever found out about Erin Hanson and Severus’s desire for her, both his and her life would be forfeited.

Other than having no magic, Erin and Lily were certainly similar types; both had red hair, both had green eyes and both were petite. Lily had also been clever, brave, loyal and determined and Erin also had these traits in spades. But there were significant differences too, apart from the lack of magic. Lily had been a little shorter than Erin and their facial shape was different. Lily’s hair had been a deeper titian red, Erin’s was more a golden red, Erin’s eyes were a mossy green and Lily’s eyes…well, Lily’s eyes were exactly the same as her son’s.

If he wanted to be reminded of Lily, which he did not, Severus just had to look into the Potter’s eyes. That was something he had avoided doing for just over four years, until he had been forced to look into them twice a week over the course of several months when Albus had forced the issue of teaching the boy occlumency. Severus had been so very angry about that…to be forced to do the thing that he had fought not to do since his and Potter’s first lesson together.

Severus had dreaded September the first six years ago. He had known that Harry Potter was due to start at Hogwarts. And then he had seen the miniature version of James Potter lined up with the other first years, and all his hatred for his old school enemy had rushed back with a vengeance.

He had heard all of his old teachers saying how like James Harry was…except for his eyes, that he had Lily’s eyes. Severus had not seen Potter up close until their first potions lesson…and he had not looked the boy directly in those emerald eyes since, that was until their first horrendous occlumency lesson together. Until then, he had always been able to pretend that Harry was just James, and totally deserving of his hatred…he had convinced himself that Lily was not looking at him through her son’s eyes.

But now a pair of moss green eyes was holding him in their thrall. And he did not really like the way that was making him feel.

8888

Severus was amazed that he had managed to get any work done at all down in his lab. All these thoughts had repeated themselves over and over in one sequence or another until he knew it would be useless to continue to work...he had ruined half a dozen stems of purslane before he realised that he was cutting them diagonally. He needed to rest and he needed to try and forget that Erin Hanson was sleeping under the same roof as himself.

He was going to treat himself to a dose of dreamless sleep tonight. He had brought several phials of it along with other potions that he thought he might need for Potter.

Severus was halfway up the stairs when he heard Potter cry out. The boy’s anguish and the words he spoke told Severus that he was dreaming about the Department of Mysteries and Black’s demise. A shiver ran down Severus’s spine. He had always thought that Sirius Black would die in a blaze of glory, not falling through the veil…the veil that wizard children were often threatened with by irate parents, but only because they thought that the thing was just a myth.

Harry cried out again in abject terror and distress. “Save him…he’s only just gone through…no, he’s not gone…Sirius…let me go…I need to go after him…let ME GO! Sirius…don’t say that…he is NOT DEAD!...SIRIUS” Severus had bounded up the rest of the stairs before he heard the other voice…the soft, soothing tones of a woman.

When Severus gained the landing, he saw the door to Potter’s room was half ajar, and the flickering orange light dancing around the walls showed Severus that the room was illuminated by the fire. When Severus looked around the edge of the half open door, he was not surprised to see Erin running a soothing hand through the boy’s hair and whispering quietly in his ear.

“Shh, Harry…it’s all right. Everything will be all right…” she soothed and though Severus knew that she probably did not know anything about Sirius Black, she reassured the boy who was trapped in his vision, that Sirius would be all right.

Amazingly, it seemed to be working. That soothing, obviously caring, female voice seemed to be getting through and Potter’s agitation seemed to be lessening. Severus did not move from his position looking around the partially open door as Erin continued to calm, both with her touch and with her voice as well as the actual words she spoke. Potter did not awaken throughout the whole episode, and after ten minutes, he had settled into a peaceful sleep.

Erin stayed kneeling beside the bed, alternately stroking the boy’s cheek and running her fingers gently through his hair. At one stage, she brushed her fingers over his forehead, taking great care, Severus was surprised to see, not to touch the lightning bolt scar. Even in the muted light cast by the fire, Severus could see the scar was once again livid and upraised. Perhaps the nightmare about Black’s untimely end had been preceded by dreams of the Dark Lord…perhaps memories of when Harry had actually been possessed in the atrium.

Severus remained in silent vigil while Erin continued her ministrations. It wasn’t until Harry sighed and turned onto his side, his body curling into the ridiculously tight ball Severus had previously observed he often slept in, that Erin stopped her gentle stroking, though she kept her hand against the boy’s cheek. Severus felt something brushing against his ankles and glancing down, he saw Pumpkin giving him the benefit of her touch as she rubbed back and forth several times, her back arched and her purrs rumbling through her sleek frame.

Erin heard the cat—indeed, she was making so much noise, it was a wonder Dobby didn’t hear her in his little boiler room off the kitchen—and turned around. When she realised she had an audience, she stiffened. Severus’s hooded gaze left the cat and he watched Erin remove her hand from Harry’s face with a very precise, stiff movement. She pressed down on the side of the bed and regained her feet. Her movements were quite slow and Severus knew she must be stiff from kneeling on the floor. He had been standing here, watching the scene for over fifteen minutes and he did not know how long Erin had been there, offering comfort, before he had arrived. All that he did know was that he wanted some of what Potter had just had…he wanted some of that gentle touch on his face…and perhaps, a not quite so gentle touch elsewhere on his body.

Severus could feel uncomfortable heat climbing into his face as these thoughts evoked forbidden images, but he trusted that the flickering quality and orange glow of the firelight would hide any evidence of his desires.

The cat had decided she had bestowed her largesse on him for quite long enough it seemed, because she stalked off towards the bed and jumped up to nestle herself into the space made by Potter’s curled body.

But the cat now held no interest for Severus. Erin had gathered her dignity about her, and after a final glance to make sure Pumpkin had not disturbed her charge, and taking a little extra time to stroke the cat’s head, she moved across the room towards Severus with her head held high.

Severus watched, mesmerised. Erin was dressed in lime green, flannelette pyjamas that were dotted with a veritable flock of multi-hued parrots. They were the most ridiculous article of clothing Severus had ever seen, and he had said as much when Erin had thrown them over her arm when she had purchased them from Marks and Spencer, but somehow, seeing her in them, rendered them much less ridiculous. But that just might be because her delightful body was filling out the top so very nicely. As Erin stopped in front of him, Severus dragged his thoughts away from the forbidden and kept his hooded gaze on her defiant face. She obviously thought that he was going to ridicule her for her mothering. His quiet words however, told her otherwise.

“I imagine that was the first time the boy has been comforted back to sleep following a bad dream since he was little more than a year old.”

Erin blinked and then relaxed her defensive pose. She nodded and looked back at Harry. “He couldn’t wake up,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her torso. “First of all he was just screaming in apparent agony, holding his hand over that scar on his forehead, and then he started dreaming about this Sirius.” She looked back up into Severus’s stiff face. “Who was Sirius?”

“His Godfather,” said Severus simply. “He died last month.”

Erin shut her eyes and shook her head. “Does the poor kid have one happy memory?” she asked sadly. Severus didn’t answer. He did not really know what made Potter happy, unless it was the other two-thirds of the Gryffindor triumvirate. He did know that the boy had more to cope with than any adult he knew, but his own antagonism towards him did not allow any room for sympathy. Until recently, that was. Sympathy now seemed to be eroding away the rough hewn structure of his own ill-feeling at a faster rate than he was able to rebuild the crumbling edifice of his own prejudice.

Everyday, it seemed that more cracks were appearing. Erin might only be able to see the antagonism, but she did not know what he had been like before…how he had treated this boy before he had been beaten so soundly by his uncle…how he had treated the boy before the veil had been ripped away from his eyes and he had seen the tangible proof that Harry Potter was not the spoiled golden boy he had always imagined him to be, that he was, in fact, reviled by his foul family and treated worse than an animal. He was reviled by the Dursleys almost as much as he was by the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.

Erin had watched Severus’s guarded expression as he gazed past her at Harry. There was no softening to be seen in those deep, obsidian pools, but nor was there any sign of the intense dislike that she had heard far too often in his voice when he spoke of, or to Harry.

She kept her eyes focused on his unremarkable—even ugly—features. There was certainly nothing there that a young woman searching for the perfect mate would be interested in. And when his unfortunate prickly and down right unpleasant personality was thrown into the mix, Severus Snape was a long way from perfect. But Erin had never believed in perfection.

She did not know what it was that attracted her to him. Every time she thought they might have taken a step forward, he would raise his defences and push her away. Sometimes she thought she could detect a similar intensity of feeling for her within him, but then he would do or say something that would make her so angry, she could literally spit nails.

There was a part of him that was closed off to everyone…he even kept part of himself hidden from Geppetto. And Erin was positive that Severus was closer to the old wizard than to any other person in his life. She did not think that there were many people that Severus could lay claim to actually being intimately friendly with. This man seemed to eschew friendship and he had no idea how to project friendliness. It seemed he had never been educated in the social niceties.

Severus was looking at Potter, curled up and sleeping peacefully in his bed, but he was fully aware of Erin standing directly in front of him. He was looking past her shoulder and she stood less than six inches away. Unable to resist her nearness, Severus transferred his gaze to the lovely face before him. The firelight that was dancing on the walls was also playing on her sleep tousled hair, turning its golden red lights to bright orange fire. Her face was flushed from the heat, and the light from the fire was suddenly burning within the depths of Severus’s black eyes.

Without conscious thought, Severus raised his hand and took the strand of hair that was stuck to Erin’s soft cheek between his finger and thumb. Erin suspended all breathing as the man before her fingered her hair, his eyes focused on the movements of his finger and thumb.

“It’s just as soft as it looks,” he whispered and those black opals with the orange hearts shifted back to her face. Severus lifted his other hand and cupped Erin’s cheek. “Just as soft as your beautiful skin.”

Erin shut her eyes, and still hardly daring to breath, raised her own hand and placed it over his where it cupped her cheek.

“It seems I have been waiting for ever to touch you like this,” said Severus, his velvet voice even deeper as he pondered his audacity at actually touching her.

“I’ve been waiting for ever for you to touch me,” Erin whispered back and she turned her face and kissed the palm of his hand.

Severus groaned and he released the hair, instead cupping the back of Erin’s head. He gently guided her sideways so that they were no longer in the open doorway of Potter’s room. He pushed her up against the wall before cupping her other cheek and staring deeply into her eyes. He shook his head, his own hair swaying slightly.

“You either move now—I won’t stop you—or I am going to kiss you.” The orange heart of the opals had vanished but Erin could see another smouldering light at the end of the long black tunnel. As he gazed at her, the embers glowed brighter.

Erin smiled and taking Severus’s other hand, she kissed the palm that had not felt her lips yet. “Promises, promises,” she whispered, her own eyes darkened by her intense feelings of desire.

Severus still held back. He really could not comprehend his luck. How could she return his feelings? “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice huskier than it had been moments before.

A shiver raced down Erin’s spine as he spoke. His voice was the first thing that she had been attracted to and its power to ignite her senses had not abated. If those beautiful sounds could emanate from that thin-lipped mouth, what other talents did it possess.

In answer to his reticent question, Erin reached up and grasped the back of his head, taking the initiative and drawing his lips to hers. One second…two of utter stillness, and then Severus angled his lips and took the gift she was freely offering. His heart rate increased and he rejoiced when Erin did not shy away, but returned the pressure with equal ardour.

It was exactly as he had imagined it would be. She tasted of toothpaste and the lingering traces of the caramel desert they had both eaten hours earlier. Erin kept her hand against the back of Severus’s head, preventing him from breaking away. But that was fine with Severus. He was quite happy—deliriously so—to be exactly where he was…where he had wanted to be for days now.

Severus’s tongue darted out and he breached the seam of her lips. Erin opened eagerly to him and their tongues met…entwined, and the kiss deepened, both of them groaning deep in their throats. Severus pressed closer, feeling the outline of her slenderness through her pyjamas and the layers of his own clothing.

And there was no doubt she could feel him as well but it did not deter her. She pressed even closer and Severus, knew he had to stop or else he would not be able to deny his body’s cravings.

With a groan of frustration, he dragged his lips away from hers. They both gasped for breath and Severus rested his forehead against hers. He eased his body back a little…it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but he did not want to push Erin into anything that she might regret later.

Harsh breaths finally settled to something only a little more rapid than normal, but Severus’s heart rate spiked again when Erin reached up and pulled his head down again. She began to pepper his face with little kisses…his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks and chin, but all the time teasing…denying his lips. Severus thought his knees would collapse and finally, he stilled her random movements by the simple expedient of holding her face between his palms and claiming her lips again. Erin melted into him, leaving him in no doubt that this was what she wanted and that she was as much enamoured of him as he was of her.

A little grunting snore sounding through the open doorway inches away, had them breaking apart in shocked surprise. They both stood as still as rabbits caught in a spotlight, waiting for any more noises that might indicate Harry was wakening. All was silence though.

But it had been enough to quell the madness that had quickly overtaken them. They were on the bloody landing, for Merlin’s sake, right next to their teenage housemate’s open door. Erin’s head came to rest on Severus’s shoulder and she breathed herself back to calmness. It was not easy, not while she was still in contact with him, but it would be too difficult to separate from him entirely. She didn’t want to separate from him. It had taken her long enough to get here.

But Severus was right to defuse the situation. It was too soon for more. They needed to communicate on a level other than the physical, even though both their bodies were crying out for release.

“Are you tired?” Severus’s voice rumbled through her where her body was in contact with his. She shook her head, her forehead rubbing against his shoulder.

Severus took her hand and Erin’s breathing stopped as he pulled her towards her open bedroom door. But Severus ignored the invitation of that door and the rumpled bed that was beyond it to step onto the stairs, Erin’s hand firmly in his as he pulled her after him. Erin shelved her disappointment, telling herself sensibly that it really was much too soon to take that irrevocable step. But she hoped that he would not keep her waiting for too long because it seemed that she had been dreaming of a tall, dark Prince with a black velvet voice for a while now. It seemed that Severus Snape was too much the gentleman to take advantage of a kiss…a heated kiss, that left little doubt as to what they both wanted. She would not have baulked if he had dragged her into her bedroom.

But this felt right too. They needed to learn about each other…they needed to know what was behind the defensive hostility that they had both been projecting to cover up their burgeoning feelings for each other. There was plenty of time to indulge whatever this was between them. After all, they were stuck here in the wilds of the Hebrides. And though Harry was with them, Erin trusted that Severus knew enough magic to be able to protect them from discovery by the teenage boy who, Erin admitted, probably had a bit of a crush on her and who also harboured very negative feelings for Severus. Erin did not think that Harry would take the discovery of hers and Severus’s desire for each other very well at all.

Severus guided Erin into one of the chairs and taking her hand he kissed it. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. She saw the plea written there…he was still so unsure.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him and with a tight smile, he nodded. He turned away and after pointing his wand at the fireplace to reenergise the brightly glowing embers into dancing flames, he strode through to the dining area.

Erin leaned her head back and stared into the fire, just as Severus had been doing when she had left him brooding in the living room earlier, when she had gone up to bed. Perhaps he had been brooding about the very thing they had just been doing. Erin smiled dreamily. She had been brooding on just that topic herself as she had donned her pyjamas for the first time, thinking as she had done so, that parrots were not likely to fire any man’s lust.

As Severus’s current absence continued past a couple of minutes, Erin drew her knees up and swung them sideways so that she was sitting in that sideways curl that was exclusive to the female gender. She leaned a cheek on her propped hand and as her eyelids drooped, she wondered idly what Severus was doing now and what he had been doing in the hours since they had parted company earlier. It was obvious he had not been to bed.

When Severus returned, it was to find Erin asleep, curled sideways with her head cradled in her arms, resting on the arm of the chair. He stood still with a laden tray in his hands, and stared his fill. She looked like a little girl, totally swallowed by the chair as she was. The parrots clashed magnificently with the butter yellow, supple leather, and as Severus placed the tray down on a table, he lips quirked as he thought that he would have to make sure Albus never caught sight of the garish fabric or he would be sure to commission robes to be made with the same patterned fabric, only not in flannelette.

He gazed at her for another minute before bracing his hands on the chair arms and bending down to blow softly into her uppermost dainty shell of an ear. All that elicited was a slight frown so he increased his offensive and began to pepper tiny kisses along her jaw line, starting just below her ear.

Erin woke to the gentle teasing of his lips and she moaned softly, deep in her throat, a gentle smile unfurling on her lips. She turned her face and caught the marauding lips with her own and it was a very long minute before they broke apart. Severus initiated the separation because his thirty-six year old back and neck were objecting vociferously to their unnatural position. When he said as much, Erin called him a sook and informed him that at thirty-six, he should be in his prime. Then she embarrassed him by adding that as his lips were in such good shape, they must work out on a regular basis. And to add insult to injury, she had giggled at the redness climbing into his cheeks.

In answer, Severus had demonstrated that it was not just his lips that were in prime condition by scooping her into his arms and depositing her on the sofa where he could sit beside her. Erin had squealed with delight and once they were seated, Severus had taken out his wand and pointed it towards the stairs, muttering, “Muffliato!” as he waved it about. At Erin’s raised eyebrows, he explained that the spell would prevent Harry from hearing them, should she decide to do any more squealing.

“Are you going to make me do anymore squealing?” she asked saucily, her eyes dancing.

“That depends on whether you can squeal while you are being kissed senseless,” he whispered, his eyes moving from her sparkling eyes to her reddened lips.

“Now why would I want to do that?” And then they were kissing again, and Severus was pressing Erin back onto the corner of the sofa, his weight keeping her pinned there. She did not mind at all. She revelled in the weight of him, not really that surprised that his weight was much more substantial than the look of him in his flowing black robes would indicate…after all, she had seen him in a pair of tight jeans.

They explored each other where they could reach with lips and hands without breaching the barriers of clothing. But it soon became too much and with a groan of frustration, Severus pulled away and moved to put several inches between them. He and Erin sat with their eyes closed, trying to get their breathing under control. Erin actually had a hand over her eyes, but after a minute, her other hand felt around until she found Severus’s hand. She grasped it and held on, reluctant, now that she had claimed him, to allow him to be out of her reach for long.

When Erin felt Severus move forward on the sofa, she lowered her hand and opened her eyes. After squeezing her fingers, Severus retrieved his hand and Erin watched as he added a couple of marshmallows to each of two mugs of hot chocolate. She scrambled to sit up straight as Severus turned to pass her one of the mugs. It smelled mouth watering and Erin inhaled the steam rising from the still piping hot treat.

Severus watched as she took a sip, but he had to look away as the tip of her tongue darted out to lick the chocolate moustache away. The temptation to take over the task was almost overwhelming. He covered his frustration by taking up a plate of crumpets and offering it to Erin.

She grinned at him as she took one, the smell of honey mixing with that of chocolate and sugary marshmallow. “My mother has always told me to make sure the man I pick knows his way around a kitchen,” she said seriously.

Severus put the plate down without taking one of the crumpets for himself. Those obsidian eyes pinned her in position with the crumpet halfway to her mouth. “And have you?” he asked in a voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Erin swallowed past the lump that was suddenly making it hard for her to breath. “Have I what?” she whispered.

“Picked me?”

Erin stared at his austere features; she knew most people would say that Severus Snape was an ugly man, but to her, he was beautiful…it was a combination of many factors, his colouring…she had always preferred dark men…he was tall and slender, he was obviously exceedingly intelligent…and then there was that voice. Every time he spoke, something inside her melted. He was tough and he did not suffer fools gladly and yet, he was still unsure of her. And that endeared him to her all the more. That this man…this prickly, disdainful and often downright unpleasant man was so vulnerable when it came to her, that he had hidden his own feelings behind a very high wall of unpleasantness because he was too nervous to show his hand…well, that made him all the more precious to her.

She leaned forward and put her crumpet back on the plate, then ignoring her sticky fingers, she turned and cupped his gaunt cheek against her palm. “I hoped that we had picked each other.”

Severus gazed intently into her eyes. They sat like that, their drinks and the crumpets ignored for the present as they stared and assessed. Severus reached across the tiny space that separated them and once again picked up a lock of her hair between his fingers and thumb.

“I know why I picked you,” he said as he sifted her hair through his fingers, watching the fire lights as they were caught up in the fine curtain. “You’re beautiful. Any man would want you.”

Erin felt a flash of anger but she tried to fight it down. She waited until she thought she could speak calmly. “So, what you’re saying is that you are only attracted to me because of the way I look?”

Severus looked shocked. “Of course not.”

Erin had to move. She was still seriously irritated. She stood, keeping her mug of cocoa so that she could wrap her hands around its comforting warmth. “Sooo…why do you assume that I’m just amusing myself with you? That I could not possibly be serious about you because you’re not Orlando Bloom?”

Severus’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “What is an Orlando Bloom? Is it a species of plant?”

If Erin had not been so annoyed, she would have laughed. “Orlando Bloom is not a what, he is a who and he’s an actor and he’s…oh, never mind. What I’m saying Severus Snape, is that I am attracted to you…all of you.”

“Erin, I know that I am no oil painting…”

“If I wanted an oil painting, I would have one of Orlando Bloom commissioned. But I do not want an oil painting. I want you. I have wanted you since I woke up in the hospital wing and…”

“And heard my voice?”

Erin’s eyes widened in shock and her mouth formed a perfect, comical ‘O’. “How…I…how did you know that?”

Severus smiled. I have the ability to…well, the closest analogy I can come up with is that I can read minds.” Severus was all too aware that he had bitten Potter’s head off for making just this analogy.

Erin was goggling at him. “Are you serious?”

“Quite serious. The art is called Legilimency.”

“And so, while I was being held prisoner on that bed, you could see what I was thinking?”

“A fair proportion of it, yes.”

Erin raised her chin. “So, what exactly did you see, beside the fact that I thought you had a wonderful voice?” She was more than a tad peeved, and she was thinking furiously about what else she may have been thinking at the time…what she may have been thinking any of the times he was near her.

“Erin,” said Severus in a soothing voice. He had obviously divined what she was worried about…hell, of course he had. He could see everything that she was thinking. “I did not see everything that you were thinking. I have to…well, I have to activate the process…with a spell.”

“Well, why did you do that? Wasn’t I vulnerable enough?”

Severus had the grace to look chastened. “It…it was a whim. I accessed your mind while you were in the body bind so that I could see what you were thinking.” He tried to defuse the situation. “I found your pseudonyms for Albus, Minerva and myself amusing.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you were amused that night. I was absolutely terrified,” huffed Erin.

“That was the only light spot in a truly horrendous night.”

“I’m glad I was of service,” she said, still nettled. “What else did you see?”

“Nothing. I lifted the spell…and before you ask,” he added because Erin had opened her mouth to speak, “I have not employed Legilimency against you since.”

“You haven’t?” she asked quietly.

Severus walked across to Erin and took her mug out of her hands, placing it on the mantelpiece. He put his large hands around her waist and pulled her close. “I promise you, that I will never employ Legilimency against you again.”

Erin reached up and threaded her fingers through his black hair. It was soft and very fine and felt slightly oily. She didn’t care. “What if I want you to?” she whispered. Severus looked down at her with his brow furrowed.

“Why would you want that?” he asked truly perplexed. “You have just finished letting me know how displeased you are that I did it the first time.”

“If you can read my mind, then I want you to do it so that I can prove to you that I really am attracted to you.”

Severus was stunned. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head. “You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know. But I want to. That way, you can have no doubts. You will be able to see everything that I have thought about you since I first met you.”

Severus was shaking his head more determinedly, his face set in rigid lines. Erin reached up and put her hands against his cheeks, stilling the movement. “Please Severus. I want you to do this.”

“I should not have questioned your feelings.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you did, and I think I can read you well enough to know that there will always be a little niggle of doubt in your mind about the truth of my feelings.”

Severus turned away from her. He did not want to do this, but he also knew that what Erin said was true. He would doubt, because no woman had ever looked at him in a romantic light before. He had hoped that Lily might one day, but…hell, there was no point in going there again. She had wanted Potter and that was all there was to it.

But Erin Hanson said that she wanted him. And she wanted to prove it to him. Severus stood with his back to her, running a long finger over his lips as he pondered what Erin was asking. Finally, he turned around. “I will do this, but only because you want me to. It is not necessary. I want you to know that.”

Erin nodded. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. What do I have to do?”

Severus came close again and took her face between his hands. “Just keep your eyes open and look into mine. You will feel a slight pressure, but if you do not fight it, it will not be significant.”

Erin nodded even while he held her face. Severus leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “Ready?”

Erin stared into Severus’s bottomless black pools, and felt herself fall into them as he whispered, “Legilimens!”

Severus woke with a smile on his face. It had been a very long time—if ever—since he had woken with a smile on his face. After lying for several minutes looking at the unfamiliar ceiling, he decided he liked the new muscle configuration of his face.

His thoughts were all centred on the previous night. Erin…Erin, and the feel of her in his arms. Erin’s mouth on his, and the fact that she apparently cared for him enough to have allowed him access to her memories so that he could see that she was not just amusing herself with him.

And Severus had seen. But he had invaded her mind with the greatest reluctance. He had been as quick as he could, but it had still taken him more than three minutes to sort through the morass of memories. As he trawled through Erin’s early life, he had fleeting impressions of her parents and brother, a dog and several cats, long stretches of golden beaches and—here Severus did linger for several seconds longer than he should have—Erin with a look of abject fear, cowering against a wall as a man stood over her and screamed invective directly into her face. He was about her height, and had blonde, wavy hair and a pretentious, slide-rule neat little beard and moustache that surrounded his mouth and covered the point of his chin. His jaw line and cheeks and throat were free of facial hair.

Severus had had to thrust the sudden surge of fury away so that he could concentrate on the images that were still rushing past at the speed of a thestral on the wing. With tightened jaw, because of that memory of whom, Severus presumed, was her Muggle husband, he watched Erin when she first met Potter on the front lawn of his relative’s home where he appeared to be on the brink of passing out. He watched her practically drag him into her own home and feed and hydrate him. And he watched with some amazement as Potter released a blast of accidental magic against his foul cousin and his friends. Then there was a trip to the supermarket with Erin feeding the boy again and her fiery self confronting Petunia and Dudley Dursley.

He also saw Vernon Dursley through Erin’s eyes and the look of fearful disquiet she had seen on Potter’s face when the fat Muggle had ordered his nephew into the house.

Then he had seen an image of a dark, cloaked figure skulking across a road and then across a lawn. He had seen Erin rushing to Potter’s rescue after she had armed herself—her memory of pushing open the front door and sneaking around the downstairs rooms and her shock when she had obviously heard the door being blasted apart above her.

When she had rushed up the stairs, it was obvious that she had no longer been intent on stealth, and Severus could not believe that he had not heard her. He had to admit that her initial impression of his cloaked figure kneeling over a small battered and bloodied body had looked appalling.

And then her memories of when she had first woken in the hospital wing had rushed by. He felt her fear, especially when she was in the ‘full body bind’, but he couldn’t help being freshly amused by her initial impressions of Albus, Minerva and himself. And after her initial fears had been quelled, he could not help but see that her focus had more often than not been on him; even with his sour demeanour, she kept shooting covert glances at him.

Her preoccupation with him was put on hold for a short time when she had realised that Potter was safely tucked up in another bed, and her relief was palpable, even seeing it second hand as he was. Severus saw her amazement at Potter’s lack of injuries, considering what she had seen in the bedroom at Privet Drive and he could feel her dawning comprehension that there really was such a thing as magic.

But then he had seen her anger at him for his less than caring attitude towards the boy. It confused her as much as it upset her; she could not understand his attitude in the face of all the Potter acolytes surrounding the boy and because it had been he who had rescued and healed Potter. But his nasty attitude, his barbed tongue and disdainful looks notwithstanding, she had still been drawn to him.

The trip to London had been a time of confusion, discomfort and fear for her…fear when she had heard Selwyn and himself conversing on the steps of Gringotts, but he was pleased to note that her fear of Selwyn had not transferred to him, even if her curiosity had been aroused and she had become wary of his connection to the powerful wizard who had caused all of her heartache.

But that wariness had been assuaged when he had gone to find her cat and Severus could see that her attraction to him went up a notch after this act of chivalry on his part.

Up until then, she had tried to distance herself from him, she had even tried to convince herself that she disliked him intensely. It was beyond him how she had not managed to convince herself she disliked him, because seeing himself through her eyes, he most certainly disliked Severus Snape. His dislike of himself turned to loathing as he watched her distress after he had sent her away from his dungeon lab, and she had wandered the passageways until she was lost; she had broken down and allowed her distress over him to reduce her to a weeping mess.

Severus understood a little better why Erin felt sympathetic towards Dobby because it was he who had rescued her from those labyrinthine passageways and guided her safely back to her room. With his self-loathing at an all time high, Severus promised himself that he would make every effort to break the habit of many years standing, and be less superior around the house-elf...around house-elves in general, in fact.

Her remaining memories showed more of her affection and concern for Potter—that could perhaps become a real problem where he was concerned—and her reluctant feelings for him hidden behind casual and sometimes barbed indifference.

And her feelings when they had both dropped their facades of prickly indifference had obviously been as intense and welcome as his own had been. She had revelled in their physicality, and had been just as eager as he to take that physicality to the next level, but like him, she had decided that time to get to know each other without the aggression of their earlier acquaintance was the way they should go. For as long as one, or both of them could restrain themselves anyway.

And after he had withdrawn from her mind as gently as he could and he had seated her and dosed her with a mild headache potion, they had indulged their senses with more gentle teasing with lips and hands. He had enjoyed it even more because he was now sure that he was not just someone she was amusing herself with until something better came along. He was who she wanted. And she was definitely who he wanted.

It had been hard leaving her at her bedroom door after she had insisted on checking that the boy was sleeping peacefully. Severus had watched from the door as she pulled the covers back over Potter’s thin shoulders. No, he didn’t think he was going to like sharing Erin with Harry Potter one little bit.

8888

Half an hour after waking and showering, Severus left his room, eager to see Erin again. He got his wish a little quicker than he had thought to as she was just leaving her own room. When she saw him, her face lit up; it was as though a candle was burning behind her eyes, giving her skin a translucency and her eyes a sparkle that made her even more beautiful.

When Severus advanced and would have gathered her into his arms, she backed up half a step. She put a finger to her lips and pointed over his shoulder. Severus knew she was indicating Potter’s room and he understood. He took her hand and kissed her fingers.

“He's not in there,” he said softly. “He must be downstairs already.”

Erin’s smile became beatific and she raised herself on tip toe, put her hand behind his neck and pulled his head down for a thorough kiss. Severus obliged her, but they both kept an ear peeled in case Harry came bolting up the stairs. He didn’t, and they indulged themselves for several minutes. Finally, reluctantly, Severus pulled back.

Erin dropped her forehead onto his chest. “I've missed you,” she said huskily.

Severus’s lips quirked and though Erin didn’t see, she heard the humour in his voice when he said, “Yes, I know. Its been so terribly long since we last saw each other.”

Erin looked up at him with her head cocked to one side. Severus was a good ten inches taller than her and now that she was not on tip toe, she had a fair way to look up. “If true wit deserts one, sarcasm is a viable stopgap I suppose,” she said saucily.

Severus quirked an eyebrow and looked appropriately stern. “You know madam, if this relationship is to continue and flourish, you really need to learn to be a lot less lippy and much more subservient and worshipful.”

Erin stepped back and much to Severus’s delight, she raised her own red-gold eyebrow in perfect imitation of his. “Really sir,” she said deadpan. “Worshipful might just be on the cards if you continue to comport yourself in the manner to which I have become accustomed, but subservient, sir…red-haired females do not do subservient. As for lippy, well, that is an unfortunate side effect of being female and I could no more change that than fly a broom.”

They stood at the head of the stairs, Erin grinning delightedly and Severus’s lips quirked in what passed—for him—as a smile. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to settle for worshipful,” he said, running his thumb over her bottom lip. He leaned his head forward to claim her lips again when Dobby’s voice, followed by Harry’s drifted up the stairs to them, and Severus stepped back and donned his usual mirthless expression.

“After you, Miss Hanson,” he said out loud and Erin sighed as she descended the stairs ahead of him. She infinitely preferred the quietly happy Severus to the dour Professor Snape.

Harry was standing at the large window looking out towards the cliff faces and the ocean beyond. He turned when he heard footsteps and his lips lifted in a smile when he saw Erin, but then Snape appeared behind her and the smile disappeared so fast, Erin wondered if she had seen it at all.

She sighed again. She had her job cut out for her if she was going to reconcile these two stubborn males to the other’s presence. She smiled at Harry and crossing the room to stand beside him, she put her arm around his shoulder. “How are you this morning?” she asked brightly, aware that Severus had moved into the dining room. She wondered if Harry remembered his dream from the night before.

Harry shrugged and took a sip from the mug of tea he was holding. He kept his eyes on the wheeling birds around the cliffs. “As OK as I can be considering I’m being kept prisoner,” he said, trying not to sound too bitter and miserable in front of Erin. After all, it wasn’t her fault.

“Oh, Harry. I'm sure it wont be for long. Professor Dumbledore is very worried about you and he thought you needed a break away from everything.”

“In other words, he thinks, I’m a nutter and he wanted me away from other people for their safety. I suppose if I’m here, nobody has to worry about me. Now that my aunt’s dead, they had to shove me somewhere. Why not in the bloody back of beyond. The further away, the better.”

“That’s not true. You’re being silly. Professor Dumbledore just wants you to have some peace and quiet so that you can…can come to terms with the terrible things that have happened to you.”

“Terrible things have been happening to me since I was fifteen months old, Erin. Professor Dumbledore has always tried to shove me somewhere where I won’t be thought about. First, the Dursleys, now here. Well out of the way again. But I suppose it’s easier than having to deal with me.”

“As usual, Potter, you’re talking utter drivel!” Severus had appeared beside them with two cups of tea in his hands. Harry clamped his lips together and watched as Snape held out one cup to Erin and raised his eyebrow to question whether she wanted it. She gave a tight smile of thanks and took the cup.

Snape turned back to Harry. “That’s a very interesting theory you’ve come up with, but you know that it’s just a fairytale.”

Harry’s knuckles whitened as his grip on his mug tightened. Erin watched in some alarm as he glared at Severus, his chest rising and falling in anger. It was obvious that he was bursting to argue, but in the end, although the effort looked as if it would make him physically ill, Harry brushed past Severus without saying a word and stalked off to the dining room.

Erin looked at Severus and she could see that he was rather surprised at Harry’s abrupt departure. He had expected him to back-talk him. She stepped a little closer to him and raised her own cup to her lips. Before she took a sip, she said out of the corner of her mouth, “Don’t bait him, Severus. He has a perfect right to feel hard done by.”

Severus just ‘hmmphed’ in response and followed her as she too headed for the breakfast table. Erin was not too shocked to see the choices laid out for breakfast considering what Dobby had presented them with the night before. Though Erin thought that he had made a small effort at restraint…there were only two types of eggs to go with the bacon, sausages, mushrooms and tomatoes…fried and scrambled. There was also toast, with choices of honey, marmalade and raspberry jam and a tureen of porridge.

Harry was spooning honey onto porridge when Severus and Erin sat down. He ignored them completely as he began to eat. He shovelled the porridge into his mouth, hardly giving himself time to swallow before taking in the next spoonful.

The meal progressed in a very uncomfortable silence. Erin tried to break it a couple of times, but any remarks directed at Harry were met with little more than monosyllabic answers—little more than grunts really—and as she could see that Severus was getting angrier and angrier at the surly teen’s ill-mannered behaviour, she gave up and concentrated on her own meal.

Harry eschewed the cooked meal, and after finishing a piece of toast and marmalade and draining a second mug of tea, he pushed his chair back to stand. Erin tensed. She could see what was going to happen before it did; Severus had had enough; Erin could tell by the tautening of his facial muscles and the tense set of his shoulders under his black robes. She had learned to read his expressions in a remarkably short time. Harry’s attempting to leave the table without a word was the last straw.

“Potter!” he barked. “Sit down!”. Erin tried to signal him with her eyes to have a bit of patience, but Severus refused to look at her.

Harry’s jaw set pugnaciously, but he lowered his backside back onto the padded seat. He sat with his lips locked together so tightly, they were white. Refusing to look at Severus. he kept his eyes on the mess of crumbs on his plate.

“Your manners are appalling Potter, but we are going to begin to do something about that, starting right now.”

Erin could see Harry was practically ready to explode, so desperate was he to answer back, but once again, he held back. His restraint seemed like it must be causing him physical pain.

“From now on,” Severus was saying, “whilst eating, you will pretend that you are a human being instead of a dog that bolts it food down without benefit of chewing or tasting.” Harry looked as if he had shut himself off from Severus’s rant, he was staring at the wall opposite and taking deep, measured breaths. If Severus noticed, he decided not to make an issue of Harry not looking at him while he spoke.

“You will wait until everyone is seated at the table before you begin to eat…you are not in the Great Hall now, with the rest of the pack of dogs. And you will ask permission to leave the table when you’ve finished.”

Erin didn’t need to be able to do what Severus had done to her last night to see what Harry was thinking. Even though he looked calm while cyclone Severus raged around him, Harry’s eyes were turbulent with anger and resentment. She didn’t know how he was keeping it all in. It should have exploded from him before now.

Severus was thinking along the same lines and the lack of insolence and the stoic expression were quite worrying. He could see the concern in Erin’s face and fought hard not to let any such emotion appear on his own.

“Did you hear me, Potter?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry spoke to the wall; his lips seeming not to move at all, the whiteness of them contrasting with the heightened colour in his cheeks. It looked as if it took the greatest effort to speak.

“Well!” barked Severus, when Harry fell silent again.

“May I please leave the table?” The wall was still the recipient of this request. Erin finally caught Severus’s eye and hers begged him not to berate Harry further.

Severus conceded defeat. “Get out of my sight, Potter!”

Harry stood but before he could absent himself Severus spoke again. “You have an hour. After that, I want you down in the potions lab with your homework assignments and your books.”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus let him go and Erin watched Harry stride from the room, his ramrod straight back and clenched fists a sure sign of his fury. They heard the front door open and close with a restrained click that reverberated through the house. The muted noise only emphasised the explosive emotions Harry had suppressed.

Erin looked at Severus with dismay. “Should he be out there?”

“He can’t get past the wards,” assured Severus.

Erin’s appetite had quite deserted her and she made no attempt to pick up her cutlery that she had placed on her plate at the beginning of Severus’s lecture. Her eyes were full of concern. Severus was relieved to see that she was not angry with him.

She shook her head helplessly. “He’s so angry and resentful. So sad. I think he feels betrayed by Professor Dumbledore. And I have to wonder exactly what Dumbledore thought he was going to achieve, isolating Harry here with us.”

“That,” said Severus darkly, “is a very good question. After you have known Dumbledore a little longer, you’ll learn that he spends a good part of his life controlling other people’s lives.”

Severus poured them both another cup of tea from the perpetually warm pot. “You’ve seen that Potter and I have…well, we have what can only be called a volatile relationship. I believe, now that I have had the blinkers removed from my eyes regarding the boy’s home life, that Albus hopes that we might become less—for want of a better word—negative around each other.”

Severus speared her with those black, black eyes over the top of his cup. You, of course, are the buffer and the means.”

Erin frowned. “What? I’m supposed to stop you killing each other?”

“Perhaps. But I think Albus’s machinations go much further than that. The man is more farseeing than anyone else that I know. He could see what was happening between you and I before either of us was willing to admit to our feelings.

“He also saw—not that it was difficult—that you care for Potter and that Potter has come to care for, and rely on you.”

Severus leaned forward and put his hand over Erin's where it lay on the table. “You and I are meant to admit our feelings for each other and then you are meant to convince Potter and me that we can get along perfectly well if we will only make the effort.”

Erin squeezed the fingers that were wrapped around her own. “Is that possible, do you think?” she asked quietly.

Severus pulled away and sat back in his chair. “A week ago, I would have said no. Now…” Severus took a deep breath and stared out the large window. Sitting, as he was, all he could see was the sky dotted with myriad small specks that were sea birds, many of which nested in the crevices and small caves in the cliff faces.

“Now?” prompted Erin quietly

“Now, I've seen some of his life from a different perspective.”

“And it’s made a difference?”

“It’s made some difference,” said Severus, carefully, “but there’s a history there that is going to be quite a significant stumbling block to Potter and I ever reaching an accord.

Erin’s brow was furrowed. “I do not understand what a boy whom you have apparently only known since he started at Hogwarts can have done to make you hate him so. Do you dislike all your students? And if so, do you dislike them to the extent you dislike Harry? And if that’s the case, that begs the question, why did you ever become a teacher?”

Severus wasn’t ready for all of this. He knew that he would have to tell Erin certain things, because he knew that she was going to keep on asking until she was satisfied. He knew that most of his treatment of The Boy Who Lived was reprehensible. What kind of a man allowed his hatred of a childhood adversary to extend to his treatment of the eleven year old child of that adversary? An innocent child who had come under his purview…a child, who, at the time, did not even know the history of his own father, and therefore had no idea as to why the big, bad, potions professor hated his guts.

Severus was sure that Erin would not think that the fact Harry looked just like his hated father was reason enough for him, to have waged a war of attrition on an innocent child for the last five years. Especially if she learned that he had actually been in love with Harry’s mother. She would point out—and rightly so—that Harry was just as much his mother’s son, as he was his father’s.

And if she ever learned any of the details of the actual psychological abuse he had subjected Potter to…well, he just did not want her to learn about that. She already knew that he was far from being a exemplary human being, but he didn’t know if she would be able to turn a blind eye to the whole of his and Potter’s muddy history.

“Severus?” prompted Erin.

Severus sighed. “Teaching wasn’t my first choice of profession, In fact, it never featured in any dreams that I had about how I might like to live my life.”

“I’ve wondered why you never made use of your healing skills. Looking after sick people never appealed to you either?”

“I think you know me well enough now to realise that I have very little patience. Of the two choices…helping educate untrained wizards and witches or looking after sick people…well, teaching was the lesser of two evils.”

Erin cocked her head to one side. “It’s obvious that you’re not a people person, Severus, so why didn’t you get into research with your potion making? From what I’ve heard, you are the best.”

“Working at Hogwarts gives me ample opportunity to indulge my passion for potion making. The down side is that I have a day job.”

Erin smiled ruefully. “Damn those pesky students!”

Severus smiled grimly. “Precisely.” He ran the knuckle above his index finger over his thin lips. “There’s a lot that you don’t understand, Erin. I don’t really want to tell you—the telling won’t paint me in a very favourable light—but I know you need answers.

“When Potter goes to bed tonight, you’ll get some answers.”

Erin watched him, her eyes soft. “I think I can wait that long.” She pushed her chair back and stood, walking around the table towards him. Through the large window, she could see Harry standing at the very edge of what she assumed was the limit of the wards. Reassured that he was well out of the way, she ran her hand across the width of Severus’s shoulders and then bent so that her mouth was next to his ear.

“And what if Harry doesn’t go to bed?” she whispered before taking the fleshy part of his ear between her teeth and giving it a tiny bite.

“I’ll force the Draught of Living Death down his throat,” groaned Severus, and he shut his eyes and tipped his head to the side so that she had better access to his neck. Erin pushed his midnight black hair to the side and kissed him on the angle of his jaw. Then she nearly sent him over the edge by blowing into his ear.

“If you keep this up, I’ll have to spend some time becoming better acquainted with my shower cubicle.”

“There’s nothing as good as a nice, hot shower,” said Erin in a husky voice, before kissing his neck.

“Oh, I can think of something that I would prefer to a nice, hot shower,” Severus said in a tight, pained voice. And right then, Erin agreed with him wholeheartedly, and, but for their housemate, she might have decided that this was as good a time as any to indulge themselves the way they both wanted. But the view through the window showed her that Harry had turned away from his study of the roiling Atlantic. She could see his hair was being ruffled by the wind and as his shoulders were hunched, she assumed that he was cold.

Severus had grabbed her arm that was still draped across his shoulders and was trying to pull her onto his knee, but Erin resisted. He looked at her questioningly, his black eyes burning with the feverish light Erin had come to look for. She took his face between both of her hands and kissed him on his parted lips.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she whispered against his lips, “but Harry’s on his way back inside.”

Severus groaned but he let Erin put the length of the table between them.

“He’s going to have to learn about us sooner or later, but I think right now is way too soon,” said Erin somewhat regretfully.

The not infrequent desire to hex Potter into something that didn’t so much resemble a boy as it did a sea urchin thundered through Severus, but the knowing look that Erin sent his way, was enough to calm his raging frustration.

They heard the front door open and close and the sound of hurried footsteps ascending the wooden stairs. Severus pushed himself to his feet and followed Erin as she left the dining room. “It’s going to be a long day,” he said resignedly.

“Very long,” agreed Erin quietly, “But I'm sure we’ll survive.”

“Oh, I’m sure we will,” said Severus, “but I’m not sure about Potter.”

“Severus!”

Severus looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“That is the kind of comment you need to stop making. He needs our help to get him past the horrible things that have happened to him lately.”

“If I die of frustration in the mean time, I’m not going to be any use to Potter.”

Erin smiled at him. “You’re a strong man.” And she headed for the stairs. With one foot on the bottom stair, she turned back to face him.

“Severus, just so I know; what is the Draught of Living Death?”

Severus quirked that mobile eyebrow and he smirked. “Why don’t you ask Potter? He should even be able to tell you a couple of the ingredients.”

Erin lifted her chin and raised her own eyebrow. “I take it that that was a lesson he will never forget,” she drawled knowingly.

“His very first potions lesson, in fact,” Severus admitted. And then he added with a feeble attempt at contrition, “Not my finest hour.”

Erin shook her head in a ‘what am I going to do with you’ sort of way. “You started on him in his very first lesson with you? He had only just started his magical education, hadn't he? Were you trying to convince him that he would be better off in the non-magical world?”

Severus shrugged his shoulders, looking much like a young boy who had been caught in wrongdoing and was going to come up with all of the reasons why what he had done had been so very necessary. But all he came out with was, “It felt good at the time.”

Erin just stared at him and Severus wasn’t surprised to see a flash of anger in her lovely eyes. “Severus Snape, I can see that I’m going to have to take you in hand.” When Severus’s lips quirked and he raised his eyebrows hopefully, she added impatiently, “and not the way you want!” Then she spun about and headed up the stairs, leaving Severus looking longingly after her.

8888

One hour and fifteen minutes after telling Harry to present himself in the lab, the wretched boy had still not arrived. Severus was not used to having a direct order disobeyed, but he wasn’t going to allow his temper to get the better of him and go storming off to find Potter, no matter how irritated he was. He would show Erin that he could deal with the boy in a cool, calm and collected manner. He would wait another arryHH

ten minutes before he went searching, and then he would chastise the boy in a responsible and restrained way. Or perhaps not.

Severus shook his head at his own flight of fancy as he directed the flow of mild sleeping draught from the iron cauldron into a glass pouring jug with his wand. Severus Snape, restrained, and Harry Potter, did not belong in the same sentence. They never had before anyway.

This was going to be a very steep learning curve for Severus. He began to hand pour the cherry red potion into the first of two dozen tiny phials. He did not know whether he was capable of even being neutral around James Potter’s son, let alone begin to think of him in a friendly light. But he had to at least make the effort because he didn’t want to disappoint Erin any more than he had already done since they had first become acquainted.

When Severus finished filling his phials, he checked the time again. Another fifteen minutes had elapsed and he knew he could wait no longer. He spelled his hands clean. The potion in the phials was still slightly warm and he had to wait until it was totally cooled before he could seal the phials. He would get Potter to help him seal them.

There were twenty stone steps leading up to the door that separated the potions lab from the rest of the house. It was a very sturdy oak door much like most of the doors found at Hogwarts. The doors to all the other rooms in the house were the sort of doors you would find in most homes. They suited the design of the house, which was typically Muggle with a few, magical amendments, such as the enlarged fireplace in the living room.

Erin was sitting in the living room reading one of her newly purchased novels. Severus paused in the double doorway and just drank in the sight of her, curled like a cat as she was, twirling a lock of her long, golden-red hair around her index finger. His own fingers twitched restlessly; they wanted to be touching that hair.

Erin must have sensed him standing there because she looked up. Her smile was instant. “Hey you,” she said quietly. “I thought you’d be supervising Harry while he slaves away.”

Severus frowned. “He hasn’t deigned to put in an appearance. Haven’t you seen him?”

“About half an hour ago. Upstairs. He and Pumpkin were doing some more bonding.”

“Did you talk?”

Erin shrugged. “Only about incidental things. The weather, Pumpkin, his owl…”

“He didn’t intimate that he wasn’t going to show up in the potions lab?”

Erin shook her head. “Did he know where it was?” asked Erin.

Severus drew in an irritated breath. “All he would have needed to do is ask Dobby. Potter would know that.”

He started to turn away, but stopped and looked at her again. “Good book?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.”

“Excellent,” she answered, and she held up the book so that he could see the cover.

“‘The Complete Works of Jane Austen’,” Severus recited, and then, “ah. You like Jane Austen?”

Now it was Erin’s turn to raise her eyebrow. “You’ve heard of Jane Austen?”

“My Muggle grandmother was a prolific reader and Jane Austen was her favourite. She was in a nursing home for about six months before she died and as she was nearly blind, I read to her whenever I visited. I got all the way through her favourite, ‘Pride and Prejudice’, and halfway through ‘Emma’, before she died.”

“I’m sorry Severus,” said Erin. “You must have been very fond of her.”

“She was the best part of my father,” said Severus shortly. He was gazing into the past and Erin watched him with sadness in her eyes. It was a full minute before he snapped back to the present.

“Are you OK,” asked Erin? Severus gave her a tight smile.

“I’ll see you at lunch.” And with his robes swirling, he turned abruptly to cross the hallway and ascend the stairs. Within seconds he was at Harry’s bedroom door.

Harry was lying on his bed with the cat purring away on his chest. The boy was automatically stroking the sleek, little body but his gaze was far away, just as Severus’s had been a minute ago.

“Potter!” barked Severus, and he was pleased to see the boy jump in fright. The cat too awoke, yowled, and streaked away, a blur of black fur.

Harry was halfway to sitting up before his brain caught up with his reflexes. His upward motion stopped and with a glare at Severus, he casually lay back against his pillows, transferring his glare to the ceiling.

Severus was stunned, but he didn’t let it show. The boy was deliberately ignoring him. Potter was a Gryffindor, indubitably, but he wasn’t that idiotically brave, surely. Severus’s every instinct was to yell right into the brat’s face, drag him upright by the arm and frog march him down the stairs. But thoughts of Erin had him drawing in deep, steadying breaths to try and calm himself.

His next words were menacingly soft and stilted. “Why aren’t you down in the potions lab, Potter?”

There was silence for several taut seconds before Harry answered. “I had other things to do.”

Severus’s dark brows drew together and his black eyes blazed dangerously. “You had other things to do?” he repeated ominously. Perhaps they needed another house at Hogwarts. For students who were total fools!

“I do not consider stroking the cat and gazing at the ceiling to be earth-shatteringly important occupations, and therefore not a worthy excuse for not turning up with your homework assignments.”

Harry was surprised that he wasn’t actually being verbally flailed. Snape must really regret that it was the holidays because he wouldn’t be able to give him a detention. But then again, this whole set up was one big detention wasn’t it? And he had threatened to take points and keep a tally. But Harry hardly cared anymore.

“Get up, Potter, and get your books.”

Very restrained, thought Harry, amazed. That won’t last for long.

“No!” he said, surprised at his own daring.

More steadying breaths, this lot not as successful as his voice emerged slightly louder than it had before. “That was not a request, Potter. Now, get up!”

“No!”

“POTTER!” All restraint was now gone and Harry seemed to realise it. His memory of Snape throwing him across his office and then launching a jar of cockroaches at him rose up to taunt him. Belatedly, he realised that this man was perfectly capable of violence if push came to shove. Well, Harry wasn’t going to back down, but he would explain why he was being so defiant.

“I wont need to do the homework. I told you last night that I’m not going back to Hogwarts.”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Erin lurking at the top of the stairs. He wasn’t really surprised. She had obviously been alerted by his raised voice that all was not well between her teenage friend and her newly acknowledged lover. She was going to make sure said lover didn’t kill the idiot child.

Severus reached up and massaged his forehead. He could feel a major headache coming on. “I’m not in the mood for your idiocy, Potter…”

“Call it what you like, sir, but I’ve decided that I’ve had it with Hogwarts and being a wizard. Didn’t you wonder why I haven’t asked for my wand back?” Harry had risen from his bed during this incredible speech. He had decided that he was definitely at a disadvantage lying down with Snape looming over him. He was now leaning a shoulder against the wall near the fireplace. A good, safe distance.

Severus had actually wondered why Potter had not asked for his wand. Even though he couldn’t use magic during the holidays, no wizard liked to be without his wand for any length of time.

Erin was no longer trying to hide. This sounded too serious to be skulking about at the top of the stairs. When she entered the room, Harry’s eyes darted to her. She thought he looked like a frightened little boy who had gone way past the depth in which he was comfortable. Harry opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something to her, but he changed his mind, swallowed painfully and returned his eyes to Severus.

“Potter…” started Severus in a long suffering voice, “I really don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve with this. You are a wizard…”

“Yes, sir,” agreed Harry, a little desperately. “But that’s the problem. Being a wizard is not the brilliant fun I thought it would be. It’s too hard. I can't do it anymore.”

“Being a wizard is not a career choice. Being a wizard is a birth right.”

Harry shook his head. “Other people try to change the circumstances of their births…”

“Harry, maybe if you tell us…” Erin’s voice was soft and cajoling, but Harry cut her off.

“No! Erin…talking isn’t going to make any of this better. I don’t want it anymore. You don’t understand. I'm not just a wizard, I'm a means to an end, and I'm not strong enough to journey to that end.”

He looked at Severus and shook his head slightly. His eyes looked suspiciously bright. “You're right Professor. You’ve always been right. I'm not brave, I'm just plain stupid. You’ve told me often enough, and its finally gotten through.

“Look at all the fool stunts I've pulled. And last June, I pulled one too many. I tried to be the hero again, and I got Sirius killed.”

Erin drew in a shocked breath and Harry looked at her. “I'm not the nice kid that you seem to think I am, Erin. I’m responsible for my godfather’s death.”

“Stop being so melodramatic Po…”

“Why are you arguing with me? I know you think I'm responsible. I've been blaming you, but all along I knew it was me. I'm a kid. I shouldn’t have even thought of leaving school, but I did and I dragged five of my friends into mortal peril with me.” Severus’s brows drew together and he watched as fear overtook the boy’s expression.

“And now I've learned that it has to be me who kills him, and I can't do it,” Harry choked.

He sank down so that he was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn right up. He put his elbows on his knees, bowed his head and grabbed hold of two hanks of hair. He was a pitiful sight and Severus couldn’t believe how cowed Harry looked and how much the sight was affecting him. He had always thought he would rejoice to see the boy brought down a peg or two, but this total loss of bluster was shocking.

Potter had really given up. There was not one ounce of false bravado in him. He would never shown this sort of weakness in all the time Severus had known him. He could feel Erin’s distress and he knew if he looked at her, there would be tears in her eyes.

Severus knew that Harry was referring to the prophecy…the prophecy that the Dark Lord had tried to seize from the Department of Mysteries. The prophecy that he, Severus, had heard part of all those years ago and raced to tell his Lord, bringing about the devastating consequences that had changed the course of wizarding history, and lost this boy his parents.

Severus forced his thoughts away from these memories. It was old history, and he would never forgive himself for being the cause of Lily’s…and yes, if he was honest, James Potter’s deaths. And now Lily’s son was going through some kind of terrible, internal struggle, and once upon a time he would have been vindictively pleased to see it. But Erin Hanson had obviously softened his brain because right now he took no pleasure in the sight of the suffering Gryffindor.

Not for the first time, Severus lamented the fact that the Dark Lord had not trusted any with the plans but those who had carried out the raid on the Ministry. If he had only known, he and Albus would have been able to come up with a plan to stop the boy from responding to the Dark Lord’s mental machinations.

“Pot…Harry, the one responsible for Black’s death is…”

“Don’t try to make me feel better, Professor Snape. I know you think I’m an unthinking, idiotic little turd. You’ve told me so often enough. You know Sirius wouldn’t have been where Voldemort could get to him if it wasn’t for me.”

“Black would not blame you,” stated Severus a little desperately. He didn’t like Potter throwing his remarks back in his face.

“How do you know? Sirius won’t be doing anything, ever again. And that’s my fault.”

“Potter, if the circumstances had been reversed, do you think for a moment that Black would not have come to your rescue?”

“I know he would have. The difference there is that Sirius was a fully trained and talented wizard. And even at school, he never did anything as stupid as what I did.”

“No,” said Severus bitterly. “He never unknowingly put anyone’s life in danger. He deliberately put people’s lives in danger.”

Harry scrambled to his feet and glared at Severus, while Erin just stared at him, confused. “I don’t want to talk about Sirius and your mutual hatred and history,” yelled Harry. “None of it matters anymore.” He now lowered his voice again and his next words came out as a threat. “You can't keep me here forever. And when Dumbledore finally deigns to set me free—he can't keep me here for ever—I'm leaving and that’s the end of it.” He stalked towards the door, but Severus grabbed his arm as he tried to pass.

“It most certainly is not the end of it, you foolish boy! What exactly are you planning to do with the rest of your life,” he yelled.

“Why would you even care?” Harry yelled back, trying to wrench his arm out of the iron grip. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted ever since I started at Hogwarts? You’ve threatened me with expulsion practically daily since I first entered the castle. What…you wanted to be the one to send me on my way? Well, I'm sorry, but hey, this has to be almost as good, doesn’t it.”

Erin now stepped in because the look on Severus’s face was frightening. She took Harry’s other arm, but her grip was gentle, calming. “Harry…Harry think about what you’re saying. What on earth are you going to do if you don’t go back to Hogwarts? And where will you go?”

Harry stopped struggling against Severus’s hold and it loosened accordingly. But Harry no longer tried to escape. He swallowed and looked at Erin beseechingly. All of a sudden, he looked very unsure of himself. “I hoped…I thought that you would maybe take me to Australia with you.” The words cam out in a rush.

Erin and Severus both looked at him, stunned. Harry hurried back into speech. “I don’t mean that I want to live with you and your mum and dad or anything. I just want to go with you. I’ll have money. My parents left me heaps. I just have to transfer it into pounds…” He was talking very fast, almost babbling.

“I can get a flat, and then I’ll look for a job.”

“Harry…” began Erin weakly. “I…I…”

“She’s not going to Australia, Potter,” barked Severus. “Miss Hanson is staying at Hogwarts. She’ll be teaching Muggle Studies this coming year.”

Erin’s head whipped around so fast, Severus heard an ominous click as the vertebrae in her neck objected to being wrenched so violently. Harry was staring at him with his mouth open. The three of them were standing together in a tight little group. Severus towered over the other two.

Severus met Erin's shocked gaze…his eyes beseeched her not to argue with him…told her that he would talk to her later. But Harry intercepted the look. He yanked his arm downwards and Severus’s slackened hand fell away. Harry stepped back a couple of paces.

“Do you know anything about this?” Harry asked Erin, a little more aggressively than he had intended. Erin’s lips parted but she couldn’t think of anything to say, not in the face of Severus’s silent plea.

Harry turned to Severus. “Since when has a Muggle ever taught at Hogwarts?” he asked scathingly.

“I don’t know, Potter. I am not fully conversant with the history of the teaching staff at Hogwarts.”

“Meaning that you’ve never heard of a Muggle teaching there.”

“No,” agreed Severus. I have not. But…” Severus’s voice faded. He really didn’t know what else he could say. He had had a similar reaction to Potter’s when Albus had put the idea to him down in the dungeons yesterday.

The idea had been abhorrent to him then because he knew it would be torture to have to interact with Erin as a staff member, feeling for her the way he did, and sure she did not share his feelings. Now of course, he thought it was the most brilliant idea. Erin would be near at hand, and she would be safe within Hogwart’s wards.

Harry was shaking his head. His eyes were fixed on Erin’s face. “Are you going to do this?”

Erin looked into the beautiful green eyes and was upset to see something that looked very like disappointment. She could feel Severus’s hot gaze on her as well.

“I…I haven’t made up my mind just yet,” she said wretchedly, feeling immensely torn.

Harry stared at her and she knew her face was colouring furiously. Harry nodded his head several times. Then he turned away and crossed the room on stiff legs. He leaned against the wall beside the window and gazed down into the front garden.

“Well,” he said. “I don’t suppose it matters. Strange though,” he said contemplatively. “One inhabitant of Privet Drive leaves Hogwarts and another enters.”

“There will be no more of this non…” began Severus, but Harry interrupted him.

“I’m not going back to school! There’s no law that says I have to complete my wizarding education.”

He looked at Snape with total determination blazing in his eyes. Severus was at a loss and he didn’t like the feeling of being out manoeuvred by a student one little bit. It would certainly be possible to lock the boy in the castle, even make him sit in on classes, but he could not be forced to participate. In the frame of mind he was in, he wouldn’t even care about detentions and house point losses.

He would explain to his friends that this was not his fault, that he was being forced to be here and that if the powers that be let him go, then the point losses would stop. Not all Gryffindors would be happy, but Potter had some very good friends who would back him to the hilt. And really, in the frame of mind the boy was in, house points would not even register on his list of things to worry about.

A feeble light went on in Severus’s mind.

“What about your friends, Potter? How are you going to leave them behind?”

This was the point when the boy looked absolutely devastated. Severus knew that losing Granger and the Weasleys would be on a par with having lost his parents and Black. But if he thought his argument would hold any sway, he was mistaken. Potter was resolute.

“It’s for them that I’m doing this. They won’t be in danger if I’m not around. And Ron and Hermione will still have each other.

“You’re underage,” offered Severus, but with the air of a man who knew he had played his last hand.

Harry shrugged again but he looked totally miserable for someone who held the winning hand.

“Very well Potter. You’ve won this round.” He spun about, to leave the room. Erin moved forward and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes still fixed on Harry’s pale face.

“Let’s see what Professor Dumbledore has to say,” said Severus and he swept from the room leaving Harry and Erin gazing at each other.

“Oh, Harry…” Erin said hopelessly.

Harry sighed and turned back to the window. “The sorting hat shouldn’t have listened to me,” he said half to himself, confusing Erin no end. “I don’t belong in Gryffindor. I’m definitely Slytherin material. I’m a coward who is only interested in looking out for himself, and the rest of the world can go to hell in a hand basket.”

“That’s not true! I haven’t known you for a terribly long time Harry, but I do know you’re not a coward.” Erin’s brow furrowed. “But what is the sorting hat and what did you mean by saying that Slytherins are cowards and only look out for themselves? Surely those can’t be the traits that define Slytherins?”

Harry didn’t answer straight away. He continued to stare down into the garden—what there was of a garden anyway—but Erin could tell he wasn’t really seeing anything.

“Harry?”

He shrugged. “At various times, the sorting hat has called them, cunning, power hungry, users of any means to achieve their ends. My personal experience of them is that they’re cowards…well…some of them anyway.” He raised empty eyes to Erin’s face. “But you’ll find out for yourself what Slytherins are like if you’re going to be on staff. Though the only chance you’ll have of a Slytherin being in a Muggle Studies class is if Dumbledore makes the class compulsory.”

Then he raised an eyebrow and put a finger to his lips in a mock thoughtful gesture. “Oh, yeah, I forgot, one of their more endearing traits is that they’re totally prejudiced against muggles and Muggle borns—or as they prefer to dub them—Mudbloods.”

Erin’s lips had parted during this harangue. She was more than a little surprised. She wouldn’t have thought that Harry had the ability to despise something as much as he seemed to despise those in Slytherin house.

“Surely, not all the kids in Slytherin can be like that Harry.” she paraphrased her earlier statement.

Harry looked at her with a little more fire in his eyes. “Slytherin house has produced more dark wizards than the other three houses put together,” he bit out. “Salazar Slytherin was the wizard who only wanted to educate those of pure blood. This was why he argued with the other three founders and eventually left. Voldemort is an ancestor of Slytherin and as far as I know, all of his most trusted Death Eaters are from Slytherin.” Harry didn’t feel like going into the story of the one Death Eater that he knew about who was definitely not from Slytherin.

Erin had to admit that the last was a pretty damning testament. She asked the question that had been on her mind since this particular conversation had started and which she was a little nervous to ask. “Professor Snape is head of Slytherin house, isn’t he?”

Harry turned away from her and leaned his bum on the edge of the window sill. He fought hard to keep his answer to a simple, “yes”. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t launch into a stinging attack on Snape, but somehow, he didn’t want to go there. She would have to be blind and deaf to have missed the fact that Snape hated him.

Thoughts of that unforgettable memory of Snape’s that he had witnessed in the pensieve stilled his tongue, as well as the fact that Snape had saved his life—however reluctantly—on more than one occasion. Then there was the inescapable knowledge that Professor Dumbledore trusted his potions master implicitly. And Harry had long since given up convincing himself that Snape was responsible for Sirius’s death. He knew full well who wore that crown.

He looked down at his trainers which were angled out from the wall…the trainers that Snape had shrunk and cleaned last night. No, he wasn’t going to badmouth Snape to the newest member of the Hogwart’s faculty. He drew his shoulders up around his ears.

Harry felt slightly ashamed of his sweeping generalization of Slytherin house. Everyone in Slytherin couldn’t be like the fifth years he knew: Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy Parkinson or even most of the Slytherin Quidditch team who wouldn’t know a fair tactic if it bit them on the bum. “But having said all of that about the Slytherins…” he began in a slightly guilty tone, “and to be fair, I don’t really know them all.”

Erin got off the bed and crossed to the window herself. She wanted to put her arms around Harry, but she just knew that he was a little too brittle at the moment and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. She leaned her shoulder on the wall, taking up the stance he had just abandoned but rather than stare down into the garden, she stared directly at Harry.

“Harry, this isn’t you! I don’t know why you’re being like this. I don’t know enough about what’s happened to you in the past, but whatever it is, I know running away isn’t going to solve anything. It never does. I’m pretty sure that you need those friends that Sev…umm, Professor Snape spoke of.”

Harry raised haunted green eyes to Erin’s face. “You’re right. I do need my friends. But they’re better off without me.” His tone was resolute. “As long as anyone is close to me, they’re in danger. If I disappear, then they’ll be fine.” Even as he tried to justify his stance, he knew how feeble it sounded.

If Erin saw the big gaping maw, in Harry’s theory, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she said, “you can't deny who you are, Harry.”

Harry set his jaw belligerently. “I can try. I'm not that far removed from being a Muggle. I was dragged up a Muggle, my grandparents were muggles.”

“And your other grandparents were magical, Harry. As were your parents. As are you.” Dumbledore had entered the room with Severus. His deep, powerful voice filled the space and infused Harry’s being. He gazed at Harry over the top of his half moon spectacles, his eyes piercing and his face set in serious lines. Harry pulled his feet back under him, and he scrambled to stand. Erin straightened up with much more dignity.

Harry didn’t speak. Though he was always powerfully affected by the headmaster’s presence, he didn’t always like what the old man was going to say. He knew this would be one of those times. He glared at Dumbledore, his face like a thundercloud.

“Miss Hanson is right, my boy. You cannot deny who and what you are.”

Harry crossed his arms and looked down at his feet again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, sir,” he said mulishly. “My mind’s made up.”

There was a heavy silence that lasted for at least a minute. Harry could feel three pairs of eyes assessing him. He knew Snape’s eyes would be glittering with anger and deep irritation, Erin’s would be full of compassion and worry, and Dumbledore’s would be contemplative and sad.

Finally, Dumbledore sighed. He turned to Severus and said, “Severus, would you and Miss Hanson excuse Harry and I for a short time? I wish to speak to him alone.”

Severus drew himself up. He wanted to argue that as he had been put in nominal charge of the boy, then he should have the right to hear what was said. But one look at his boss’s face told him that though the question had been couched as a request, it was in fact, an order. His face a stiff mask, he nodded curtly to Dumbledore who was staring at Harry again, and then he followed Erin—who had left Harry’s side immediately Dumbledore had requested they leave—out of the room.

Harry had looked apprehensive as Dumbledore had ordered Snape and Erin from the room. He didn’t want to be alone with the headmaster and he watched both the other adults leave with some trepidation. He would have even been willing to put up with Snape’s snarky presence if it meant that he didn’t have to be alone with Dumbledore…Dumbledore who could talk circles around him.

Albus drew his wand and conjured two squashy scarlet velvet covered armchairs with gold piping around the edges. They settled on either side of the fireplace and Dumbledore lowered himself into one with a sigh. Harry thought that the old man didn’t look any more excited about this coming conversation than he did himself.

Harry had been standing in a shaft of sunlight streaming in the window, but now, roiling dark clouds had obscured most of the daylight as a storm front rolled in from the ocean. The room suddenly felt chill and Harry watched as Dumbledore pointed his wand at the grate, which sprang to cheerful life with dancing yellow and orange flames.

“Please sit down, Harry,” said Albus in a tired voice. Harry hesitated for a few seconds, but then he crossed to the other chair and threw himself down into it. Harry didn’t like to see the ancient headmaster looking and sounding so tired. He was sure that the happenings at the end of the school year—Dumbledore’s amazing duel with Voldemort not being the least of it—and the horrors that the dark side were perpetrating upon the Muggle, and no doubt, the wizarding worlds since then, were causing great consternation for the leader of the light.

Harry felt amazingly guilty that he was adding to those worries. He tried to feel angry, rather than guilty, but he couldn’t quite manage it. He hated that Dumbledore ran his life and had decided to lock him away here in the wilds of Scotland, but deep down, Harry knew that the old wizard was doing what he thought was best for him.

Still, despite his guilt, there was enough resentment inside for him not to want to have this private conversation with his headmaster. Harry knew that Dumbledore was going to try very hard to change his mind about leaving the wizarding world. But Harry had his mind made up. He shouldn’t be worried about anything that Dumbledore had to say to him. He had recited over and over, like a mantra, the reasons why he would be better off away from all of this: his friend’s safety being the main one, his own survival, the second.

Harry told himself that he wasn’t worried about letting the wizarding world down by running away. He did know that he would be leaving them to the future tyranny of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but he reasoned that as there was no chance that he was going to defeat the most powerful dark wizard in history, and that Voldemort would be happy with nothing less than his death, then why couldn’t he just disappear and survive, rather than hand himself over to the bastard and die. Either way, Voldemort would win; but this way, he would at least be alive.

He was not even sixteen years old yet, and he had a death sentence hanging over his head. And he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was absolutely terrified of dying.

Was he just supposed to welcome death…hold his head high and present himself to Voldemort and say, here I am? Do what you will. Was that what he was supposed to do because others had dubbed him, ‘the Boy Who Lived’?

Did they all think that he would survive again, just because Voldemort had failed to kill him before? But every time he had escaped, it had been because of someone elses actions, or very good luck.

Harry hated that people celebrated his life because he had survived the Dark Lord and his killing curse as a baby; it had not been his doing, it had been his mother’s sacrifice that had enabled him to survive. She should be the one who was lauded, even if it was posthumously.

And because of that protection, he had been able to hold Quirrell off until Dumbledore had arrived. He had nearly died that time. He had been unconscious for three days.

Fawkes’s timely intervention had been the only reason he had survived the basilisk…the phoenix had brought Gryffindor’s old hat and sword to the Chamber of Secrets, and had healed him when he should have died because the King of Serpents had managed to bite him anyway.

And in that graveyard, the only reason he had escaped was because of the twin cores in his and Voldemort’s wands. And even with that, it had been a close run thing. But someone had died that evening…Cedric had died because of his, Harry’s overdeveloped sense of fairness. That was the first death directly attributable to him.

And a month ago, the second death directly attributable to him had occurred; Sirius had died because of him, and he had survived another close encounter with Voldemort. Dumbledore said he had survived that because of the love he had for his friends, for his dead parents and for Sirius. But Harry was sure it was his mother’s love for him that had saved him again…there was something within his very being since his mother’s sacrifice that Voldemort could not stand coming in contact with.

But Harry didn’t kid himself that he would survive a direct hit with the green light of the Avada Kedavra curse a second time. He knew if Voldemort captured him, he was not going to throw Harry’s wand back to him so that they could duel. He was going to snap that wand in half and he was going to kill him without any fuss at all. Harry had escaped too many times; Voldemort was not going to play with him any more.

“You can defeat him, Harry.” Harry started. Dumbledore was staring at him intently. Harry felt like he was being x-rayed again. And no doubt, he was. Harry now knew that Dumbledore was a legilimens, just like Snape. And Harry had just been sitting there, gazing off into space, giving Dumbledore full access to his thoughts. He was not happy about that and he said so.

“Do you know I can't even daydream when you and Snape are in the same room with me?” he ranted. “Even if I managed to learn occlumency, I’d have to occlude all the time, and not just against Voldemort.”

“I apologise, Harry. But I had to find out exactly what your fears are. I knew you would never tell me,” responded Dumbledore, sounding truly regretful.

Harry pursed his lips and turned his head to stare into the flames. He wasn’t going to leave himself open to legilimency again. “I don’t believe you about being able to defeat him,” he finally said when the silence stretched way beyond what was comfortable. “You’ll say anything to get me to stay.”

“Probably,” admitted Dumbledore, and Harry glanced at him in surprise, before he remembered that he didn’t want the old man to be able to look into his eyes. He looked down and focused on a fraying hole near the inside leg seam of his jeans. He wondered vaguely why the threads of cotton were white and the jeans were faded blue.

“Do you want me to die?” asked Harry with idle cruelty as he poked at the hole with his finger.

He glanced up quickly, in time to see Dumbledore blanche slightly and close his eyes. Harry felt awful, but he couldn’t call the words back. It was a minute before the old man could speak and his voice was little more than a whisper. “I hope that was just an attempt to hurt me, Harry; payback for all the things I have handled wrongly when it comes to you.” Harry blushed.

Why had he said that? It had been very hurtful, and it was a ridiculous thing to say. Dumbledore had told Harry that he cared for him, and Harry had believed him. Anyone would have believed him if they had seen and heard the old man that early morning nearly a month ago. And if he died, then Voldemort had won. Of course Dumbledore didn’t want that.

“Please tell me that you really do not think that I want you to die…that I would not do everything in my power to try to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

Harry swallowed around the lump that had developed in his throat. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to die,” he said in little more than a whisper. “But I will if I have to face him.

Dumbledore leaned forward and put his long fingered hand on Harry’s knee. “Harry, if you and I work together, I am sure that you can not only survive a confrontation with Tom Riddle, you will be able to defeat him.”

Harry stared, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and forgetting in the emotion of the moment that he had vowed not to give Dumbledore access to his thoughts. “I can't believe that, sir. I just can't.” He jumped out of the chair and began to pace up and down. Dumbledore sat back and watched the distressed boy.

“Harry, you are only thinking about the part of the prophecy that says, ‘and either must die at the hand of the other…’, are you not?”

“Well, as that’s the bit that basically says that he’s going to kill me…”

“That is not what it says my boy. You forget that the beginning of the prophecy says, ‘the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...’.

“But I don’t have any power that can defeat him!’ Harry yelled. “I don’t! You know I don’t.”

“Dumbledore was shaking his white head again. “Harry…Harry, this is part of the power that you have. Your humility. This refusal to see yourself as anything extraordinary is a large part of the power that you possess.”

Harry laughed, but it was obvious that he didn’t think that any of this conversation was funny. “Professor Snape would argue that I'm anything but humble,” he scoffed. “And sir, the only thing about me that might be considered something to boast about is the fact that I’m a halfway decent seeker. Maybe if I challenge him to a race to catch a snitch, I might just defeat him. I’ve never heard anything about whether he was any good on a broom or not. Maybe he was as brilliant at that as he was at everything else.”

“Other than the regular flying lessons for the first years, I cannot recall Tom Riddle having any interest in flying at all, Harry. He certainly had no interest in quidditch. I cannot recall him attending one single match in his senior years. He was too busy gathering his early followers around him and plotting how to take over the wizarding world.”

Harry shrugged. “So quidditch is out then.”

“Being an truly remarkable seeker will not help you defeat Lord Voldemort, Harry. And I know at the moment, everything seems hopeless to you. But I can tell you that running away will not keep you safe, and nor will it keep your friends safe.

“In their cases, quite the contrary, I would imagine.” Harry stared and then slumped down onto his bed, putting his elbows on his knees and bowing his head to grasp handfuls of hair.

Dumbledore went on relentlessly. “He will not stop in his efforts to get to Miss Granger or Ronald, nor indeed, any of the Weasleys to find out where you are. It is common knowledge that you are closer to them than to anyone else now that Sirius is gone. Though perhaps, Remus would become more of a target as well.”

A giant hand squeezed Harry’s heart at the mention of his godfather. He seemed to be shrinking in upon himself. But Dumbledore continued relentlessly. “And no matter where you go, Harry…Australia, New Zealand, the United States or Canada, even Timbuktu, he will never stop looking for you. And as his army grows, which it will at a rapid rate when people realise that there is no hope of the wizarding world remaining free of his tyranny—they will join him to protect themselves and their families—he will be able to use more and more resources to look for you.

“And as his hold increases here in Britain, it is a short step to overthrow the magical communities in the rest of Europe and then the world.

Harry jumped to his feet and stepped up to the side of Dumbledore’s chair. He leaned on the arm. “But if I disguise myself, and live as a Muggle, how will he ever be able to find me?”

“Harry…”

“No,” said Harry, quite lost to all reason. “Listen to me. I can have plastic surgery to change my looks. I can get a false identity…”

“How? Harry, how will you do all of these things? You will need Muggle papers…a birth certificate, a passport if you are going to live overseas. A visa to get into whichever country that you want to live in. But you cannot just say you are going to live in another country and that is the end of it. You will probably not be allowed to take up residence anywhere else, not if you do it the Muggle way.

“And if you do it with the aid of magic, he will probably be able to follow the trail.”

“Not if you help me, sir,” said Harry wildly. “You could hide me better than anyone. Plonk me right down in the middle of suburbia somewhere in Australia.”

“And your friends? Have you forgotten your friends? Did you not hear what I said would await them if you disappeared?”

Harry stared through eyes brightened by feverish enthusiasm. Then fervour died and Harry slumped. He turned away and grabbed his hair again, pulling it hard enough to cause himself pain. “Aaaargh!” The cry was raw frustration.

“Harry, I know you. You would not be able to leave Hermione and Ronald to such an unsure and unsafe future.”

“They could come with me.” The comment was hardly audible, but as soon as he had said it, Harry was glad Dumbledore would not have heard because it was a monumentally stupid thing to say. As if he could drag his best friends away from their families, perhaps never to see them again. He couldn’t do it.

Dumbledore of course had heard but he didn’t refer to the comment. Instead, he said, “And if you think that you will be able to not use magic, if you live in the muggle world, then I am here to disabuse you of that notion.

“If you deny your powers, Harry, they will explode out of you in uncontrollable bursts. Your magic needs an outlet, and the more powerful the wizard—or the witch—the more powerful will be these explosions of wild magic.

“You have already seen what you are capable of when it comes to accidental magic, Harry. A barely thirteen year old wizard would not be capable of such a strong engorgement charm in normal circumstances. Your aunt was well and truly inflated. I have never told you that it took quite a bit of work to be able to reverse your unconscious charm. Just as it is unheard of for a thirteen year wizard to produce a corporeal Patronus. So, you see my boy, you will not be able to stop these outbursts if you do not give your magic its normal outlet.”

Harry had listened miserably, and his feelings of hopelessness seemed to be beating him down. He knew that Dumbledore was not exaggerating. Before Hagrid had tracked him down and told him that he was a wizard five years ago, his episodes of wild magic had become more pronounced and more frequent. Banishing the glass in the reptile house at the zoo had been the last in a long line of magical accidents during that last summer before he had started at Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been at their wits end. The retaliatory hidings had become more frequent too.

The two months break over the summer always made him feel antsy when he wasn’t allowed to use his magic. He had asked Ron and Hermione if they felt the same way, but they had both just looked at him as if he was a little strange. Hermione had said that she was always pleased to be able to use magic again when they got back to school, but she hadn't had any bursts of wild magic for a long, long time, and even then, they hadn't been anything spectacular.

Ron had more or less agreed, but after Hermione had left them, he had sheepishly admitted to Harry that he did use magic during the holidays, but only small things like cleaning out his frog tank and Pigs droppings tray, and only when his mother wasn’t around to know that he had done it. Harry had envied Ron even more, living in a house full of qualified wizards. Any magic performed by anyone underage, would just be put down to one of the adult wizards in the house.

So Harry had spent a long time wondering what the difference between himself and Hermione was. Why did he get more and more agitated over the two month break if he didn’t use his magic, and Hermione didn’t. Harry knew that Hermione was more powerful than he was. Just look at how brilliant she was compared to him.

“A wizard’s or witch’s power isn’t all about his or her study habits and how quickly he manages to learn how to execute a spell, Harry,” said Dumbledore, seeming to read Harry’s thoughts again. You have an incredible amount of innate magic. I sensed it when I held you when you were a baby and when you started at Hogwarts, you shone with your magic.”

Harry looked at him, perplexed. “What do you mean by that? How can someone shine with magic?”

Dumbledore put the tips of his fingers together in front of his face, peering over the top at Harry. “I have an ability to read magical auras, Harry. Every living thing has an aura, but a magical being has an extra layer to their aura. It is always the innermost layer of an aura and varies in colour from the murky mustard of the magically challenged wizard, to a vibrant, pulsing pure gold, in varying degrees, of a powerful witch or wizard Even as a baby, your aura was incandescent. When you started at Hogwarts, you were bathed in the glow of your magical aura.”

Harry’s puzzlement turned to scepticism. “Sir, all that was glowing around me that first evening was fear. I was bathed in an aura of bile, because I was just about ready to hurl.”

Dumbledore chuckled, ignoring Harry’s self effacement. “It had been a long time since I had seen an aura like that, Harry.”

Harry seemed gobsmacked for a moment, but then he rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on Professor. You’re telling me that Hermione’s aura, or any of the Ravenclaw’s auras weren’t as incandescent as you say mine is?”

“I just finished telling you Harry…”

“Yeah, I heard. Ones power isn’t dictated by how fast he or she can learn a spell or…yeah, all of that.”

“Yes, Harry, I said it and I was not lying to you. Few wizards or witches pass under my nose who have an aura as bright as yours. Therefore, I am telling you that you are a powerful wizard and quite capable of defeating Voldemort.

Harry shook his head and then threw himself backwards across his bed. He was silent for a minute. “Who was the last person to have an aura as bright as mine?” he asked the ceiling. He didn’t want to be looking at the old man when he said what Harry was sure he was going to say.”

Sure enough, Dumbledore said, “Tom Riddle.”

Harry threw his arm over his eyes. “Of course,” he said bitterly.

Dumbledore stood and moved to the bed. He sat down next to Harry and patted Harry’s bent knee.

“Harry, I am not trying to lighten the burden you have to bear. It is more than anyone should have in their future, particularly a child who has had to endure the tragedies you have in your short life.

“But Harry, think of what life could be like after your job is done. Happiness can be yours if you stay here with us and allow me to guide you on this most difficult of journeys. I know you will wallow in guilt for the rest of your life if you deny your destiny.”

Harry lay there with the weight of that clever, old hand resting on his knee. He felt comforted by the touch. If he had Dumbledore beside him, then maybe…

“Why didn’t he pick Neville?” he whispered from under his arm. But then he thought of his kind hearted, brave, but occasionally inept friend and knew that he would never wish this terrible fate on anyone. Not even Malfoy.

“I don’t know Harry. But he must have known something, because he had never seen you until the night he tried to kill you.”

“Maybe his aura called out to mine,” said Harry, only half jokingly.

“Perhaps,” said Dumbledore, perfectly serious. Dumbledore took his hand back and the very old and the very young wizard were silent for a time.

Finally, Harry sighed and dragged himself upright. He scrambled to the head of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. He stared at his headmaster. “You’re really good at what you do Professor. Everything you do.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “I’ve had a lot of practice, Harry. I’ve been around a long time.”

“I'm still scared, sir.”

“You wouldn’t be the sensible young man I know you to be if you weren’t.”

But I'm in Gryffindor. I should hold my head high and accept my fate.”

“Gryffindor does not equate with foolish bravado, Harry, no matter what some people have to say on the subject. Fear is healthy. Fear will slow you down. Fear will prevent you from rushing in before you’re ready. Or before the time is right.”

“How will I know when the time is right?”

“We will work it out together. You and I, and Professor Snape.”

When Harry opened his mouth to automatically object to Snape’s inclusion, Dumbledore held up his hand. “We need Professor Snape, Harry. He is a powerful wizard with some very specific skills.”

“Did his aura glow?” asked Harry snidely.

“It did, and it still does. Almost as brightly as your own.” Harry’s jaw set and he looked away. Finally, he sighed and looked back.

“So, what happens now? How long do I have to stay here?”

Ahh,” said Dumbledore. “This…” He indicated the room with a wave of his hand. “This is another of my monumental mistakes Harry. I thought you needed complete peace and quiet, away from the stresses of your life…away from Hogwarts.”

“But I love Hogwarts. And during the summer, where could be more peaceful. I’ve wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the summer since I started there.”

“Harry, since the terrible happenings at Privet Drive and the deaths of your aunt and cousin, the horrors perpetrated by Voldemort’s regime have intensified. And as a result of this upsurge of activity, I have the members of the Order arriving at all times of the day and night, and it would be impossible, if you were living there, for you to miss this grim parade. They rarely bring good news. I didn’t think you needed that. I know you already blame yourself for far too much.

Harry looked down at his fiddling fingers which were poking at the hole in his jeans again. He knew that he wasn’t technically responsible for all those deaths in Privet Drive. Of course he knew that. But, if Voldemort had not been looking for him, the Death Eaters wouldn’t have been at Privet Drive. There was no getting away from that fact.

“I have spoken to Molly and Arthur, Harry and they are eager for you to come to them. The members of the Order and the Ministry together have been working to increase the wards around the Burrow. Bill, has been in charge of the operation. As I need to fix the error of Judgement that I made in incarcerating you here, away from your friends, and if you can promise me that you will not brood over everything that has happened, you can leave for the Burrow tomorrow.”

Harry had leaned forward as soon as the Burrow was mentioned and now he grinned. It was the happiest Dumbledore had seen him look since he had woken up at Hogwarts after his beating.

“You mean it, Sir? I can go to the Burrow?”

“With certain provisos, yes.”

“Anything!”

“No brooding and no leaving the confines of the house and its gardens unless accompanied by a member of the Order. Molly and Arthur have gone to a great deal of trouble and inconvenience so that you can—in their words—come home.”

Harry was nodding in enthusiastic acquiescence. “I promise!”

“And no more talk of leaving Hogwarts.”

Harry’s enthusiasm waned a little but eventually, he gave a curt nod. Dumbledore stood and looked down at the young wizard he had come to love as he would a grandson.

“We will get through this Harry.”

He put his hand on Harry’s head and bent down to his eye level. “I am going to do everything in my power to get you through this.” And then, much to Harry’s shock, Dumbledore kissed him on the top of the head before he headed to the door.

Harry watched with shocked eyes as Dumbledore opened the door, but then paused on the threshold. “Oh,” he said, delving into the deep pocket of his favourite oyster grey coloured robes. He withdrew a dark tapered length of wood and stepped back into the room to place the wand on the bedside table. “Professor Snape hoped you might want this back.”

Harry was too occupied staring at his wand to follow the headmaster’s tall, thin form as he left the room. After several taut seconds, he reached over with a shaking hand and picked up the wand. It felt so familiar in his fingers, and as it had done when he had taken it up in the hospital wing in front of Erin, it emitted a sizzle of red sparks. Harry finally understood why this happened when he had not held his wand for a while. His pent up magic was being siphoned off through his wand.

If he needed any more proof that he could never live as a Muggle, then holding his wand and feeling his fingers tingle as they grasped the magical instrument presented that proof. He should have remembered that when his wand wasn’t about his person, be it in a pocket or in his hand, then he felt incomplete.

He had been a fool. Snape would no doubt say that he had been perfectly in character.

8888

Severus watched Dumbledore disappear behind a wall of green flame. As usual, the bloody old coot had once again taken his life and turned it upside down before he had taken his leave. He turned and spread his arms wide, a look of total incredulity and disgust on his face as he glared at Erin.

Erin watched him from the depths of the armchair in which she had been sitting since she and Severus had descended the stairs together. She would have laughed at his obvious dismay if she had not still been processing everything that Severus had told her before Dumbledore had joined them and told them the results of his talk with Harry.

Earlier, when she and Severus had entered the lounge, Severus had summoned Dobby and ordered coffee for both of them. Erin had been grateful for the diversion, and it wasn’t until Severus had calmed down after summarily being shunted from Harry’s room by Dumbledore that she felt she could broach the subject she was determined to learn about.

Severus had immediately become stony faced and close-mouthed, but Erin had pushed, insisting that if she was to be a part of this operation that was based around Harry, then she needed to know why everything that had happened, had happened!

And so, reluctantly, Severus had told her the story of ‘the Boy Who Lived’. Everything that is, but his own culpability. He was carefully selective of just what he divulged. He didn’t mention, for instance, his love for Lily, nor the fact that it had been he who had heard the first part of the prophecy and reported it to the Dark Lord. He could not bear the thought of her disgust if she was to find out that he had joined the Dark Lord of his own free will—no matter that he had still been a gullible teenager—and that he had happily reported the overheard conversation to his Lord, knowing full well that it would mean the death of some unfortunate infant. He also left out his own less than stellar treatment of the boy over his tenure at Hogwarts, especially the treatment he had meted out during the last years occlumency lessons.

And so Erin had learned about the prophecy, and about the murders of Harry’s parents at the hands of Lord Voldemort. She had learned about Harry’s own miraculous survival of a curse that no-one before or since had survived, and the murderer’s own apparent demise as a result of the curse backfiring. Severus had explained about the magical protection that Lily Potter had bestowed upon her son by dying to protect him when she could have chosen to live.

She now knew why Harry had been sent to live with the family who so obviously despised him—though she couldn’t quite fathom why they had taken the little boy in when their every inclination must have been to throw him to the authorities. Erin had no illusions that Petunia would have taken one look at the small, black haired infant and fallen in love with him. Petunia Dursley would not have spared any of the love she lavished on her own son—a love that had been stifling and detrimental to the boy. But somehow, Dumbledore had convinced Petunia Dursley to become a surrogate mother to her orphaned nephew.

Severus told Erin that Dumbledore had somehow known about the unwitting protection that Lily Potter had left behind for her son. The fact that the killing curse had failed to kill the baby had probably been his only clue. The old man had also known that for that protection to be activated, Harry had to reside where someone with the same blood as his mother lived, and the only blood relative that Lily had was her muggle sister. It obviously had not mattered that Petunia hated Lily; they were of the same blood. By calling number four Privet Drive home, Harry had been hidden and protected from anyone who wished to harm him…anyone magical, that is, because obviously the Dursleys themselves had hurt Harry for most of his childhood.

The charm also worked in reverse and protected the Dursleys from the Death Eaters. So within minutes of Petunia Dursleys and her son dying in a car accident, the protection around the house in privet Drive had dissolved and Lord Voldemort had been able to send his henchmen to collect Harry Potter, ‘the Boy He Was Determine To Kill’.

Then Severus had glossed over Harry’s arrival at Hogwarts and the many close encounters that he had managed to survive until the resurrection of the Dark Lord at the end of Harry’s fourth year.

By this time, Erin was having great difficulty holding back the tears. She had sensed the deep well of sadness in Harry, but she could never have guessed that his past had been so horrifyingly tragic. She could not quite get her head around just how normal a boy Harry was after all that had happened to him in his short life.

Oh, sure, at the moment, he was anyone’s definition of a nightmarish teenager, but Erin could now see that fear was the overriding factor dictating Harry’s current behaviour. He was a child! Now she could see why Dumbledore had been worried enough to isolate Harry away from the troubles that the wizarding world was living through. It seemed that Lord Voldemort was now in full war mode, and though Harry’s capture was central at the moment to his plans, the man, or creature, or whatever he was, did not care how many others he killed or maimed in his bid to take over the wizarding world and ultimately, the whole world.

“I can see that my present travails are of no concern to you, Miss Hanson.” Severus had placed his hands on either arm of the chair and was leaning forward so that his rather prominent nose was inches from her own, much smaller one.” He did not look annoyed, just quietly amused as she had obviously been a thousand miles away while he had railed at Dumbledore.

Erin put up a hand and cupped his cheek. “I'm sorry that you're unhappy Severus, but I fail to see why you are so upset. Your prison sentence has been reduced. You're to take Harry to his friend’ home. Surely that has to be better than staying here for however long Geppetto originally dictated.

Severus snorted at the ridiculous moniker Erin had bestowed upon the old man. Comparing Albus Dumbledore, master wizard and manipulator with a humble wood carver and maker of toys was a joke. There was nothing in the least humble about Dumbledore. He was made of the same stuff of legend as Merlin himself.

“It is not leaving here, per se, that has me upset, it is the means by which the old fool wishes us to do it.”

Erin raised her eyebrows. “Seems like a perfectly fine idea to me. I would much rather travel by car than be rendered unconscious again to be apparated out of here.

“Disapparated,” corrected Severus, bestowing a kiss on her small nose before pushing himself upright again.

“Pardon?”

“Disapparated. You disapparate from, and you apparate to,” he explained.

Erin rolled her eyes and uncurled herself from the chair. “Whatever. It’s the same thing, isn’t it? A feeling I imagine that is reminiscent of being crushed to death by a boa constrictor, whether you’re coming or going.”

Severus grinned and Erin was once again taken by just what a difference a smile made to his face. She ran her hands up over his black robed chest before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down to meet her questing lips. But before Severus could reach his destination, rubber soled feet thumping down the wooden stairs made them both jump.

They had managed to put several inches of space between their two bodies before Harry came into view. Erin knew her face was blazing as she casually crossed to the window where the view was obscured by a steady downpour of rain that had accompanied the storm front.

“Finally decided to grace us with you presence, Potter,” drawled Severus in a steady voice, but Erin could see the twin streaks of red riding high on his high cheekbones.

Harry looked from one to the other and back again, and Erin was convinced that those eyes were shadowed by suspicion.

Finally, Harry spoke, but he looked at his trainers instead of at either of them. “Err…yeah, I'm…I'm sorry about earlier, sir. I know I was living up to your image of me being an arrogant burke, and I apologise.

“Professor Dumbledore and I had a long talk and…well, he made me feel a bit better about…well, about everything. I suppose he’s told you that I won’t be leaving Hogwarts now.”

‘He did,” said Severus in a bored tone. “You can imagine my delight, Potter. Another two years of you, rather than the mere hours I had envisioned.”

“Yeah,” responded Harry without hesitation. “Your delight must be second only to my own, sir.” And with that, he walked past them and entered the dining room to search out some lunch. Erin moved back into severus's orbit and grasped his wrist when it looked as if he was going to verbally flail Harry. He couldn’t keep entirely quiet though, despite her admonishing look.

“You will join me in the basement lab after lunch Potter and you will tackle that homework you neglected this morning.”

Erin just gave him an exasperated look and preceded him into the dining room. But as she sat down at the laden table with the two wizards she had come to care for so strongly, but who looked as if they would always be life long enemies, Erin vowed that she would find out why it was that Severus, was so down on Harry.

They had not had time to explore those murky waters earlier.

The basement lab was quiet except for the steady scratching of quills. Severus was immersed in his lesson plans for the next bunch of first year dunderheads who would torture him with their presence, and Harry was working on his potions homework.

Snape had insisted that he work on the set potions homework even though Harry had pointed out to him that it was unlikely that he would have received a high enough grade to advance to NEWT potions. Severus had just curled his lip in the all too familiar sneer and told Harry that as that was indeed the most likely scenario, then he could consider the time and effort put into the homework as being punishment for his failure to work to standard during his OWL year.

Harry had scowled at him, but had managed to bite his tongue and set to work. Strangely, he had found the assignment not so very difficult, as it concerned work they had covered briefly towards the end of the last school year. In fact, without the Dursleys being on his case every ten minutes to do one chore or another (a sharp pang made Harry’s stomach clench when he thought of his aunt and cousin, and he wondered fleetingly how Uncle Vernon was coping), having to try to do his holiday homework in the dead of night, under the covers with a torch, and without the presence of his best mate to distract him, Harry found—much to his amazement—that he was capable of reasoned thought.

During the last term they had touched on some of the work that they would be delving into much more deeply in NEWT level potions, if, as Snape had so snidely told them, any of them managed to overcome their innate idiocy and actually managed to achieve an outstanding in their Potions OWL. At the time, Harry had wondered bitterly why the git would bother giving them a taste of the work which he was sure most of them were not going to have the chance to ever study. He had concluded that Snape would have revelled in making most of the class feel even more beleaguered than they normally did by setting them work above their level. If Harry remembered correctly, not even Hermione had managed to get her ‘Cataract Dissolving Potion’ to exactly the right consistency and colour. She had been most distressed over this development and had lamented hysterically and at great length to Harry that NEWT level potions was going to be beyond her.

Harry had almost resorted to dragging his friend to the hospital wing so that Madam Pomfrey could administer a calming draught.

The Cataract Dissolving Potion had been complicated and of course, Harry’s attempt to brew the potion in class had verged on disastrous; Harry remembered Snape had been particularly vindictive that lesson as it had been only a short time after the pensieve incident.

But now that he was working on the theory, Harry realised with some surprise that he must have been listening to Snape in class that day. He had actually managed to retain most of what they had been told, before they had started brewing. He was even more surprised that he found the work halfway interesting.

Now, Harry had gone as far as he could without some help. He glanced up and watched Snape for a few seconds. The man was concentrating on whatever it was he had recently written. Harry could see, even down the long length of the bench, that the parchment was closely written in Snapes small, neat script. His left elbow was on the desk and he was rubbing his fingertips along the deep furrows indenting his forehead; it appeared as if something was not to his liking. Harry didn’t want to disturb Snape and bring his displeasure down on his unprotected Gryffindor head.

Harry let his attention wander, and he studied the features of the room that Snape had turned into a lab, obviously with Professor Dumbledore’s permission, because as far as Harry was aware, this was Dumbledore’s house. The walls were rough hewn rock and Harry was sure they would be damp if some kind of drying and heating charm had not been in operation. They were quite a way beneath the house after all. Glass fronted wooden cabinets took up most of the wall space and he was perched on a stool at one end of a long stainless steel bench, and Snape was perched similarly at the other end.

A large sink was set up in an alcove at the far end of the long, narrow space and Harry could see a darker space in the wall to the side of the sink that looked like it might be a doorless opening into another room. He was curious, but he could hardly get up and go exploring. He could see jars and bottles of ingredients, mortars and pestles of various sizes, three sets of scales and on the wall opposite the doorless opening, there was a metal stand upon which about half a dozen cauldrons of differing sizes and made of a variety of metals stood. The whole was fairly rudimentary compared to the classroom labs at Hogwarts, but Harry supposed that it was good enough to keep Snape occupied when he was incarcerated here looking after the likes of him. Harry got the impression that the house wasn’t used all that often.

The sound of a quill scratching on parchment again had Harry’s head snapping back to Snape. He seemed to have gotten past his problem and was on a roll with whatever he was writing. Harry noticed that the cabinet behind Snape housed a small library. Curious, he levered himself off his stool and crossed to the cabinet to check out the titles.

Severus looked up as Harry walked past him. He turned on his stool and watched Harry reach for the key to open the cabinet.

“Can I help you Potter?” he asked in his deadliest drawl. Harry immediately pulled his hand back.

“Err, I was wondering if I could look for a reference book. I’ve gone as far as I can with last years text book.” Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Do you mean to tell me that you wish to expound on the material we covered at the end of the year?”

“Well, we just covered the basics. I thought…” Severus’s eyebrow hiked a little further and Harry could feel his mood beginning to darken.

“I thought it would be good to go into a little more detail.”

“You’ve never bothered before,” Severus stated baldly. But he stood and reached past Harry to open the cabinet. His hand went unerringly to a thick book with a tattered spine. I don’t have a copy of ‘Advanced Potion Making’ here but you will find some useful material in here. Try chapter twenty-seven.

“Thanks,” said Harry, taking the book and returning to his seat. The book was entitled ‘Healing Potions for Chronic Conditions’, and there was enough information for Harry to finish off his assignment to his satisfaction. Whether it would be to Snape’s remained to be seen. But Harry knew Snape would probably never see the work, as it had only been set for the students who would advance to NEWT level potions. Only those who were sure of their grade—Hermione, for instance—would do the work before the exam results came through, and others would wait until they got their results.

8888

To say that Severus was surprised would have been an understatement. Any homework that Potter had ever handed in after the holidays had always been pretty slapdash to say the least. Though Severus now conceded that that might have had something to do with the boy’s home life.

Considering the state the Potter had been in when Severus had rescued him from Privet Drive, and considering that his belongings had been locked away in a cupboard, it wasn’t a big leap for Severus to work out that Lily’s sister was as much anti-magic as she had ever been and she had married an intolerant man who would have taken up her stance with unrestrained gusto. Their son would have naturally picked up their prejudices.

Severus now watched the boy studying the rather advanced text, his brow slightly furrowed as he ran the feather tip of the quill over his forehead, avoiding, Severus noticed, touching his scar with it. As he watched, the puzzled expression eased and Harry dipped his quill tip into his pot of ink and began to write again.

Severus could see that there was more than the perfunctory chicken scratch adorning the flattened roll of parchment and as he watched, Harry added a long paragraph to the already closely written page. Perhaps James Potter’s son was finally exhibiting some of the traits of his mother…like taking a pleasure in garnering knowledge.

Severus snorted and went back to his own work. It was amazing that one minute the boy was threatening to leave the wizarding world—his heritage—and the next, he was putting more effort into a piece of homework for his most hated subject than he ever had before. Perhaps Granger was rubbing off on him as well. Or perhaps Harry Potter was finally growing up.

None seemed likely, in Severus’s mind, but stranger things had happened. The traumas that the boy had experienced in the last three weeks may have wrought this unexpected change.

And maybe I’m just looking at things in a more benign light now that I have Erin in my life.

And as if the thought had conjured her, there was a knock on the stout wooden door and when Severus, pointed his wand at the door and opened it, Erin was standing there with a tray in her hands. Both wizards rose, but Harry was faster, and Severus sank back onto his stool as Harry rushed forward to relieve Erin of her burden.

“I thought you gentlemen might like a cup of tea,” said Erin, descending the final two steps that were on the lab side of the door. She followed Harry across to the bench where he set the tray down. “You’ve been sequestered down here for nearly three hours.”

Both Harry and Snape looked at the clock on the wall near the door, and both their faces registered surprise. Harry couldn’t believe that he had actually been in the same room as Severus Snape for this long and he was unscathed. Severus, alternately was surprised that he had not felt the need to lambaste the boy.

But he didn’t want to dwell on Potter. He looked at Erin who was smiling at Harry and handing him a large mug of tea and holding out a plate with several slices of chocolate cake on it.

“Thanks,” he said with a bright smile. He was as happy for the break as Severus was, though Severus hoped that the boy was pleased to see Erin for very different reasons than he himself was. But he had a sinking feeling that Potter was experiencing a serious case of teenage infatuation for an older woman.

“Sit down Potter, and try to keep the detritus from that slab of cake within a half mile radius of yourself,” Severus drawled nastily and he ignored the scowl that was directed at him and addressed himself to Erin.

“That must have been a harrowing journey down that steep staircase with a tea tray, Miss Hanson,” observed Severus as he reached for one of the two remaining mugs. He allowed the corners of his mouth to rise in an approximation of a smile and raised his eyebrows at Erin by way of a private greeting. “Dobby could have brought the drinks to us.”

Erin smiled at Severus, raising her own eyebrows in response to his gesture. “Actually,” she said brightly, “he did. He popped down to the door with the tray and I took it from him there. I needed an excuse to have tea with the two of you. And I wanted to make sure you weren’t working Harry into an early grave.”

Severus huffed out a mirthless laugh. “That, would be impossible,” he said, glancing at Harry who had just shoved the last bit of cake into his mouth. “Whatever Potter dies of, it will not be overwork, I assure you.”

Erin narrowed her eyes meaningfully and Severus hid a smirk behind the rim of his cup. “Would you like some more cake, Harry?” she asked advancing the length of the bench with the plate. Harry took another.

“This is great,” he said before taking another bite.

“I’m glad you like it,” said Erin, smiling. “I made it.”

She shoved the plate under Severus’s nose. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a slice, Professor Snape?”

Severus looked at the remaining slices of cake suspiciously. “I am not really a cake eater, Miss Hanson,” he said guardedly.

Erin cocked her head to the side. “Any cake, or just my cake?” She waved the plate under his nose enticingly. “Come on Professor…everyone loves chocolate.”

Severus knew he was in an untenable situation. Erin’s back was to Harry and she was directing her own version of a smirk at Severus, knowing it was definitely not in his league, but it dared him to refuse anyway. He took the smallest slice he could find, but his look told Erin that he would extract his revenge when they were alone.

“I do have to admit,” he drawled, holding her amused gaze, “if I do indulge my very underdeveloped sweet tooth, chocolate is the thing I look for.”

Harry thought that if Snape were to indulge his sweet tooth a bit more often, his inherent nastiness might take a turn for the better. He watched over the rim of his mug as Hogwarts’ resident bat gazed into Erin’s eyes as he bit into the moist dark cake. His brow furrowed slightly as a small smile of satisfaction curved Erin’s lips at the sight of Severus Snape eating the cake she had made. Why would she care? And as Harry finished his mug of tea, he wondered when the animosity the two of them had so far exhibited towards each other had disappeared.

When he asked if he could be excused for the day, Snape waved him away without a snide word…very unlike Snape. And the smile Erin threw at him seemed to Harry to be quite distracted, as if she had more important things to be doing at the present time. And yet, as Harry gathered his work together, leaving the text book on the bench, Erin made no move to leave the lab with him.

As he climbed the stairs, Harry’s thoughtful expression became more and more stony.

Severus however, took advantage of Harry’s departure. After spelling the door locked, he and Erin indulged their passion for more than chocolate.

8888

The rest of the afternoon and evening were anything but comfortable. After Harry had put his school bag in his room, he took himself outside to enjoy the view again. The late afternoon temperature was a little more conducive to being outside, and Harry sat gazing out across the Atlantic. The sun had broken free of the perpetual cloud cover and was casting a golden shimmer across the steel coloured water. He couldn’t get any closer to the cliff edge than about six feet as the wards formed an invisible wall. But Harry sat with his chin on his knees and watched the suns very slow descent in the northern summer sky. As the hour advanced, thick grey clouds again gathered again, blocking the warmth, the wind came up again and the temperature dropped accordingly.

Harry couldn’t help thinking about the scene he had witnessed on the lab. What was that all about? Where was the disdain that Snape usually bestowed upon people…that Harry had seen him bestowing on Erin at Hogwarts? And where was the fiery temper he had witnessed Erin directing at a truly deserving Snape? Both behaviours had been rather conspicuous by their absences down in that lab. It couldn’t mean anything?...surely it couldn’t.

But Harry’s conclusion was severely tested, and his pensive mood darkened considerably when he entered the house again to see Erin ascending the stairs from the basement lab with Snape two steps behind her. She was looking back over her shoulder and laughing at some comment Snape had just made.

Severus was the one who spotted Harry, and when his face fell into its usual harsh lines and his eyes darkened, Erin’s laughter dried up immediately. She spun around, knowing immediately what Severus’s look meant.

Harry’s face had emptied of all expression and after several very uncomfortable seconds where they all stared at each other, Harry strode towards the stairs and took them three at a time to the upper level.

Erin wanted to go to him immediately, but Severus dissuaded her, telling her it was best to leave him alone for a while. But it was a very sullen teen who sat down to dinner and the atmosphere once again, was such that it would not aid digestion. Harry kept his eyes on his plate and though he had taken Snape’s previous admonishments about his table manners to heart and had not bolted his food, he still finished before Erin and Severus.

Harry’s impatience to be gone was palpable but that made Severus even more determined to make him sit and wait, and so he took his time. Erin was miserable and desperately wanted to speak to Harry, but she really didn’t know what to say to him. There was no point in lying and saying that she and Severus had only been talking down in the basement; Harry wasn’t stupid. So much for her and Severus’s subterfuge.

Harry was almost grinding his teeth by the time Severus finished and sat back with his hands folded across his flat abdomen. He met Harry’s cold eyes with his best professorial glare. Harry finally dropped his eyes. Snape could still out-intimidate him.

It was all Erin could do not to wring her hands together. Severus did not speak of the thing that was obviously on Harry’s mind. Strangely, he took very little pleasure in the boy’s jealousy.

“We will be leaving here at seven in the morning, Potter.” Harry’s head snapped up, the coldness and misery in his eyes replaced by hope.

“We’re going to the Burrow, tomorrow?” Severus nodded once.

“How are we getting there?” Harry glanced quickly at Erin, obviously wondering if she was going with them and if so, how were they to travel by magical means with a Muggle in tow. There was only one way he could think of, but as they were on an island, the Knight Bus was not an option. His brow furrowed. Come to think of it, Harry wasn’t sure how Erin had gotten here.

Snape’s answer snapped Harry out of his mini reverie.

“We will be travelling by car,” answered Severus in a voice that suggested that he was not exactly happy with the travelling arrangements.

“Car!” repeated Harry, amazed. “But it must be hundreds of miles…and we’re on an island, aren’t we?”

It was obvious that Severus was having difficulty preventing himself from making a smart comment about Harry’s amazing memory.

“Yes, Potter, we are on an island. But as Miss Hanson cannot travel by floo and has to be rendered unconscious to be apparated anywhere—a situation that is far from ideal—a Muggle means of transportation was the most viable solution.”

Severus stopped addressing Harry to call for Dobby. “You may clear the table, Dobby and we will have our post-prandial coffee in the living room,” he ordered, when the little elf skulked into view. Dobby bowed low and with a click of his fingers, the table was cleared. Severus stood and went to pull Erin’s chair out.

Harry’s mood darkened again at the possessiveness of the gesture, and he jumped quickly to his own feet and stalked into the other room ahead of the two adults. He was nearly at the hallway and the stairs when Severus, followed by Erin, entered the living room.

“Potter!” called Severus, shortly. Harry stopped, his shoulders stiff.

“Yes, sir,” he said through gritted teeth and without turning around.

“Kindly do me the courtesy of facing me when I speak to you!” Severus bit out angrily. Harry didn’t move for a moment, but then he turned slowly, his face carefully neutral. He was careful to look only at Snape.

“Yes, sir,” repeated Harry.

You will be down here at six o’clock for breakfast. You will have all of your things packed into your trunk so that I can shrink it.”

“Yes, sir.” They glared at each other and Erin bit her lip in silent misery. “May I go now, sir?”

“Get your sulky face out of my sight,” Severus said with a hard won effort at restraint. Erin Hanson was really putting a kink in his style. Right now, he was finding it very hard not to give in to his desire to give Potter a good lift under the ear!

8888

When the tentative knock sounded on his door, Harry really wanted to ignore it. He knew it was Erin. He couldn’t pretend to be asleep though because she would be able to see the light under his door. Plus, her cat was in here again.

“Harry, please let me in,” Erin called softly, and with a beleaguered sigh, Harry rose from where he had thrown himself down on his bed and opened the door. Before Erin could say anything, Harry had turned and stridden back to his bed, where he scooped up a contentedly purring and dozing Pumpkin, who let out a funny little squeak of protest. He thrust the cat at Erin.

“Here’s your cat,” Harry mumbled before turning away again and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. Erin sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. She shut the door and then placed a thoroughly disgruntled Pumpkin back on the bed before speaking.

“Harry, please talk to me.”

“What about?”

“About what happened this afternoon.” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Did something happen this afternoon?” he asked in mock surprise and Erin felt a spurt of annoyance.

“OK Harry, I know that you’re angry…”

“Why would I be angry? It’s none of my business who you’re shagging!”

It would have been difficult to say whose face registered the most shock after this pronouncement, Harry’s or Erin’s. But whilst Harry’s shock turned quickly to feigned indifference, Erin's turned to fury. Harry tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips when he saw the look on her face.

“You know Harry,” said Erin in a deadly voice. “I never before considered that perhaps Professor Snape has cause to think so badly of you. I thought you were a cut above the normal, run-of-the-mill, foul mouthed teenager. Apparently, I was wrong.” She felt no satisfaction as she watched the heat climb into Harry’s cheeks.

“And you’re right, it isn’t any business of yours whom I shag, as you so eloquently put it. And if you’re going to continue to be such a nasty little creep, then perhaps it’s time for me to distance myself from you.” With a last disappointed look, she spun about to open the door. But before she could even turn the knob Harry’s desperate voice halted her.

“Erin I’m…” His voice trailed off. Erin turned back to look at him. He looked wretched, but she wasn’t going to help him out of the huge hole he had dug for himself.

“You’re what?”

Harry took a step towards her, then stopped and threw his arms out and let them slap back to his sides. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” agreed Erin, no sign of softening in either her voice or her stance. Harry’s eyes were bright with his distress and he just stared at Erin for several long seconds. It was obvious that he was still torn and sure enough, his next words, whilst not couched in the offensive language he had previously employed, were still far from what Erin considered to be appropriate.

“Are you?” he burst out. Erin’s chin rose and her eyes narrowed.

“Am I what, Harry?”

Harry pointed out the door with a shaking finger. “ Are you with Snape?” he asked wildly, jabbing the accusatory finger several times in the direction he supposed Snape to be.

Erin wanted to yell that that was still forbidden territory, but then she remembered that she had been worried about Harry’s reaction when he found out about her and Severus. She had definitely not planned on him finding out so soon…before she had even really labelled herself in her own mind as being attached to Severus Snape. She had definitely not labelled herself his girlfriend. She doubted Severus would ever label himself as something so twee as being anyone’s boyfriend.

Since her marriage had ended, Severus was the first man she had allowed to get close…that she had wanted to be close to. And though Harry had jumped the gun with his deliberately foul accusation (Erin was sure he had used the word ‘shag’ just for its shock value), he had not jumped it by too much. She and Severus had gotten carried away down in the basement. They had done everything but shag. So really, Harry’s accusation being wrong was just a matter of semantics.

Erin took a deep breath, trying to ignore the pleading look on Harry’s face. Pleading for her to answer in the negative. “Harry, Professor Snape and I have been thrown together quite a bit over the last couple of days and…well…”

Erin couldn’t finish, but she didn’t have to. Harry looked as though he had just lost his best friend. He turned away, shaking his head, but Erin didn’t have to see his face to know how disgusted he was. “I don’t understand. Haven’t you seen what he’s likes? How could you let the ugly git near you, let alone touch you?”

Bristling with fury again, Erin stalked over and thrust her face into Harry’s, in, had she but realised it, a very Snape like move. “So, you think that looks are all that a person is?” she hissed.

“No, of course not!” squawked Harry, backing up a step. “He can’t help his looks, but he can help his temperament.”

“Can you help being a sanctimonious little snob?”

Harry’s mouth fell open. He just stared, truly horrified by what she had just said. Him! A snob! No-one had ever accused him of being a snob before. This had nothing to do with being a snob, anyway. This was about the really lovely woman he had come to know in the last week—was it only a week?--allowing that shit to touch her, make love to her.

Didn’t she understand what he was? He wasn’t just a nasty piece of work, he was a Slytherin! He was a Death Eater for God sake! He hated everyone but his own kind, his own house. He had to tell her…she had a right to know. Snape must just be amusing himself with Erin. He was a Death Eater, therefore, he hated muggles and Muggle borns.

He opened his mouth to tell her, to warn her but Erin held up a finger right in front of his nose. “I don’t want to hear another word, Harry. I am seriously disappointed in you. I thought that you and I were friends, but it would appear not. A friend doesn’t do what you just did.”

Incensed, she spun around again and stalked through the door and onto the landing. Harry rushed to the door.

“Erin…”

“I said, not another word!” She was holding onto the newel post and looking back at him, her eyes glittering with anger and something else that could have been the beginning of tears.

“Erin, please! This is important. I have to tell you.” Perhaps it was the frantic look on his face, because Erin sighed and took a couple of steps back towards him. She raised her chin to indicate Harry say what he had to say.

Harry licked his lips again. He hated her looking at him like this, like he was a flobberworm that she had just trodden on. I’m sorry Erin, he said in a rush. This isn’t about Snape’s looks…”

“Professor Snape, to you.”

Harry gaped. She was worrying about titles, for God sake. “Professor Snape! This isn’t about his looks, or even the fact that he has treated me like dirt for five years…”

“He saved your life,” ground out Erin.

“Only because Dumbledore told him to,” countered Harry angrily. “But this isn’t about me, either. I’m worried about you.”

“Thank you Harry,’ said Erin after a second or two, her voice considerably less irate. “But I am a big girl. I can look after myself.”

Harry shook his head. “No, you can’t. Not against…” He took a deep breath. “Snape…Professor Snape’s a…he’s a…”

“He’s a what?” Harry looked at her through anguished eyes. He had to tell her. For her own safety, he had to tell her.

Erin raised an impatient eyebrow. Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell her. She would hate him for ever if he did. And he couldn’t give away Snape’s secret. He just couldn’t.

Yes, Snape was a Death Eater, but he was Dumbledore’s spy, and Dumbledore trusted him implicitly. According to Dumbledore, Snape was no longer loyal to Voldemort. And, he had saved Harry’s life on more than one occasion. And as he hated Harry so vehemently, he would only do that if he was loyal to Dumbledore.

“Well?” said Erin, losing all patience.

Harry swallowed and shook his head. He turned back into his room, leaving Erin looking after him, her anger fading away to be replace with worry. He just looked so defeated, so sad.

“Harry?”

“Look, I’m sorry about everything, all right. I was just being a pillock. What you do and who you see are none of my business.” He sat down on his bed, his hands clasped between his knees, his eyes cast to the floor. His next words were little more than a whisper. “I just thought…”

“What did you think?” Erin asked in voice only a little louder than Harry’s.

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t tell her that he had feelings for her himself. How pathetic would that sound? And what had he expected? That she would wait until he was old enough to have a relationship with her…old enough for her to realise that he was a man and not a boy.

And that was definitely pathetic! She had to be at least ten years older than him, maybe more. A wizard was considered an adult at seventeen, but a mature woman was still going to consider a seventeen year old as nothing more than a kid. And even if she was still available when he was twenty one, she would be well over thirty by then.

How stupid was he to think that a gorgeous woman like her wouldn’t be snapped up by a guy closer to her own age. But did that guy have to be Snape? Harry couldn’t fathom what Erin saw in him. Sure, he had said that looks weren’t important—and that was the way it should be—but the first thing to be impressed upon someone about another person was that person’s looks, wasn’t it?

Harry couldn’t see it; he couldn’t see anything about Snape that would attract Erin…that would attract any woman. There was the greasy hair—though when Harry recalled the Snape he had had contact with since he had been rescued from Privet Drive, lank, greasy hair wasn’t part of the picture—the sallow skin, the less-than-white teeth and the overlarge nose.

But then, reluctantly, Harry saw in his mind’s eye, the tall, slim man in his austerely impressive, high collared shirt and old fashioned, high buttoned, black coat, covered as they always were by sweeping black robes, stalking the corridors of Hogwarts. The students—Gryffindors, mainly—always only saw the greasy git, but Harry suddenly realised that Snape’s clothing was always immaculate. And something else Harry was aware of…Snape’s hair might appear less than clean, but he never smelled dirty or stale. And his teeth might not be white, but the man’s breath was always fresh; Harry knew that because Snape spent quite a bit of time right in his face.

Harry’s depression deepened even more though, when he concluded that the reflection that stared back at him from the mirror was nothing to set the world on fire, either. He was supposed to look like his dad…but his dad had been good looking and charismatic; he had been a quidditch hero after all, and the girls had thought he was something worth chasing. But he, Harry wasn’t good looking; girls didn’t chase after him. Cho didn’t count because she had only turned to him because he had been a substitute for Cedric. He had never had girls looking at him the way he had seen the girls looking at his dad in the pensieve. He supposed his eyes were all right, but he thought they looked much nicer with his mum’s red hair than they did with his own black hair.

No, Harry concluded, there was nothing worth writing home about as far as his own looks went. Snape might not be good looking, but neither was he. And there was obviously something about Snape that turned Erin on, other than the fact of the man being twenty years older than Harry’s own sixteen.

Erin felt terrible. All the fight had gone out of Harry. Severus had told her that Harry had a crush on her. She had laughed at the suggestion. But it looked as if he was right, which probably meant most of this whole performance was due to jealousy. She knelt down in front of him and took his hands between her own, and when she spoke, her voice was very gentle.

“Harry, I am sorry if you’re upset, I really am. I don’t like to see you hurting. You have come to mean a great deal to me in the short time we have known each other.”

Harry raised his eyes to Erin’s earnest face, a little explosion going off inside his stomach. But her next words made the firework fizzle. “I feel for you like an older sister might feel. I love my brother, Simon, but he’s a fair bit older than me. He was twelve when I was born, and he was always very protective of me.

I'm twelve years older than you and I feel very protective of you. You have no family anymore. Not,” she said with a bite in her voice, “that they were worth diddly-squat as a family. I want to be the family that you don’t have anymore. I feel like I am already…I feel that close to you.”

Harry huffed out a little laugh. “Your new boyfriend won’t like that very much. I don’t know whether you’ve noticed or not, but Professor Snape and I don’t get on very well.”

Erin jumped to her feet and plonked down on the bed next to Harry. “Yes, well…I’m going to do my very best to change both your attitudes.”

Harry just stared at her for several bewildered seconds. He didn’t know what to say, and so he just shook his head and looked away. Erin put a hand against his cheek and turned his face back to her. She leaned forward and put her forehead against Harry’s.

“Are we OK now? Do you accept my right to like Severus?

Harry took a deep breath but then he nodded once and her hand moved up to cup the back of his head and draw it down. She planted a kiss on his messy hair.”

“You don’t have to understand why, Harry. Scientists have been asking why this person is attracted to that person for eons and nobody has come up with the answers yet.”

She put her other hand up to his other cheek and stared deeply into his eyes. “If you were fifteen years older, who knows what would have happened,” she said softly. “But as things stand, you’ll have to accept me as the big sister you never had. Is that enough for you?”

Harry eased his face out of her hold and looked down at the floor again. He cleared his throat of the obstruction that had suddenly developed. He nodded again, too embarrassed to look at her.

“And in my now official capacity as your big sister,” said Erin with a smirk in her voice, “I get to have the final vote on any girl who might decide that they want to take up with my little brother.”

The look Harry bestowed on her was exasperated. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

Erin scooped Pumpkin into her arms and plonked her down on Harry’s knee before she stood. “Oh, it’ll happen. You’ve already mesmerized one female to the point where I hardly get a chance to pet her anymore.”

She stood and walked to the open door. “And I’ve told you before that you’ll have the girls beating a path to your door.” She blew a kiss at him and left the room.

“Erin!” Harry stood, gathering Pumpkin more firmly into his arms. Erin looked back around the door jamb, her eyebrows raised in question.

Harry stood irresolute for a moment, not wanting to make her angry at him again. But then he burst into speech, despite himself. “Please, ask Sn…err, ask Professor Snape to tell you about himself.”

Erin’s lips thinned a little. “Harry…”

“Please! I’m not trying to cause trouble. I’m really not. But you need to know some things.”

Erin looked at the earnest, worried young face before her, and finally, she nodded.

“I will ask him. Does that set your mind at rest.”

Harry nodded.

“You’d better get yourself to bed. We have an early start tomorrow.”

8888

Erin re-entered the living room just as the gentle fire in the gigantic fireplace changed into a magical green blaze. Erin was still not used to this phenomenon and she jumped back and had to stifle a yelp with her hand.

Severus stepped out of the flames with a heavy fabric hold-all in his arms. When he saw Erin, he smiled and Erin melted. That smile must be the best kept secret in the wizarding world; it was obvious that Harry knew nothing about it. She was sure that there would be more than one young hormonal witch at Hogwarts who would be quite mesmerised if they could see what a smile did to their potions professor’s face.

Severus dumped his bag on a chair and enfolded Erin in his arms, meeting her upturned face and keeping her lips busy for the next several minutes. Erin loved the intimacy…loved the feel of Severus’s lips and mouth under her own. His kisses made her feel cherished and his tongue set her on fire, the same as it had done the first time she had experienced the delights of Severus Snape’s drugging passion.

Had that only been last night? She had become used to his touch so quickly; it was as if she had known it her whole adult life; it was as if she had been waiting for it her whole adult life.

But just now, another, much younger black-haired wizard kept impinging on her consciousness and she did not respond to Severus as she had done earlier that day. Severus could tell immediately that her thoughts was not entirely on him. He pulled back and looked down at her, one eyebrow raised in question. Erin avoided his eyes by wrapping her arms around his slim waist, and resting her bright head on his chest.

“You spoke to the boy, didn’t you?” asked Severus, and Erin felt as much as heard the words as they resonated through his chest.

Erin nodded. “I know you said to leave it alone, Severus, but I couldn’t. He was very upset.”

“And he’s upset you now.” Severus responded. Erin noticed that his voice was laced with the usual antagonism it held every time he spoke of or to Harry. Erin despaired of ever reconciling this man and the boy upstairs to how important each of them was to her. Severus was unaware of Erin’s inner turmoil as he took her hand and led her to the vacant chair in front of the now gently flickering flames. He sat, and pulled her onto his knee. “I gather that he has deduced that you and I are…well, that we’re now together?

Erin leaned backwards against Severus’s encircling arms and looked very pointedly at him. “Do you really think he is so stupid that he couldn’t deduce what had happened down in the basement?”

Severus raised a lazy eyebrow, and Erin felt a spurt of irritation…the same emotion she had felt in the midst of Harry’s rant upstairs. She clucked her tongue and tried to disengage herself from Severus’s hold. He wouldn’t let her go, however, and she collapsed back against his chest inserting her arms between them and wrapping them around her chest in a gesture that advertised her exasperation. ‘Do you know, if I have to continue to put up with the pair of you sniping at and about each other, I’ll have to knock your silly Slytherin and Gryffindor heads together.

Severus’s face became very still and he released Erin. “You’re free to go, Miss Hanson,” he drawled softly and Erin pinched her lips together and stood up. But instead of finding another seat, she turned and glowered down at Severus.

“A half hour talk with Potter and suddenly, you’re discontented.”

“I am not discontented,” denied Erin hotly, her arms wrapping tightly across her chest again. “I’m happier with you than I have been for a very long time. Actually, that’s not true.” She leaned down, supporting herself on the arms of the deep chair. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been with a man, before. I didn’t feel like this even with my husband, Severus.”

She put her hand against his cheek. “I thought I knew what love was when Grant and I got together. But I was just swept off my feet by a smooth operator.

“You, Severus Snape are anything but smooth. You’re irritable and impatient, bad-tempered and unforgiving.”

“if you keep throwing compliments like that at me, I’ll get a swollen head,” said Severus with a smirk.

“This isn’t funny.” She leaned in further and kissed him on the corner of his mouth…the mouth that had transported her to paradise. “I might be jumping the gun here; I hope not, because if this is all just a game to you, then you are going to leave me psychologically scared for the rest of my life. Not to mention, exceedingly depressed.”

Severus grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down onto his knee. Grasping her chin gently, he turned her head so that he could angle his mouth over hers. Erin allowed him to kiss her deeply and thoroughly; they savoured each other, and Erin was sure that Severus’s gentle passion showed he felt the same commitment for her as she did for him. He wasn’t pushing her; he was allowing her to set the pace. Every instinct was telling her that she could trust this man with her heart and with her body.

“This is not a game,” Severus whispered. “This is as real for me as it is for you.”

Erin smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the high collar of his robes. Sandalwood and cinnamon assailed her senses and she closed her eyes and breathed him in.

Earlier in the basement, Severus’s lovemaking had been gentle but sure, and she had allowed him to explore her body as she had explored his. Severus had not baulked when she had reluctantly eased away from his increasingly desperate lips and hands and though it would have been so easy for her to continue…to allow him to continue to transport her to heaven and back , she had erred on the side of caution.

A basement laboratory was ultimately not where she wanted to consummate their relationship, especially with a teenager present in the house. A teenager moreover who might or might not have a crush on her. Severus had said so, anyway; she hadn’t been so sure then. But still, she had known that Harry had come to rely on her regardless of whether he had a crush or not and she had wanted to eventually explain about her and Severus to him; she had not wanted him to find out like he ultimately had.

It would have been so easy to go where Severus led, and God, her body had dictated that she do just that. And as strange as some might think her for denying herself the pleasure she knew would have been hers, Erin wanted it just to be her and Severus together, not her and Severus sneaking around to avoid Harry. It couldn’t be too much longer. After all, they were taking Harry to his friends tomorrow.

But now, there was still the problem of what Harry had said to her. Once his anger and jealousy had been dealt with, what had been left was distress and worry for her. She and Severus definitely needed to talk; there was so much that she did not know. He had told her about Harry, or most of it anyway; she was sure that there were things he had not mentioned, especially concerning his and Harry’s combined history.

But she didn’t know anything about Severus Snape from before four days ago. Harry had been desperate for her to ask Severus about himself. Erin couldn’t imagine anything that he might have to say would make her feel any differently towards him, but she wanted to know…she needed to know what made this man tick. Erin pushed herself upright again and when Severus would have pulled her to him for another devastating kiss, she resisted.

“Severus, will you tell me about yourself?”

Severus stared at Erin unblinkingly for a moment and then, with a sigh, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. So, they had reached the place where he would have been perfectly happy never to go…at least with Erin in tow. He had had her for such a short time. He didn’t want to lose her, but he was positive that once she learned about his murky past, she would not wish their relationship to continue. Surely no amount of affection could get past the terrible things that he had done during his lifetime.

Erin watched Severus’s dear, unattractive face fall into the emotionless, harsh lines which had been her first impression of the Black Prince. There was no sign of his beautiful smile now. Erin’s brows drew together slightly and her heart stuttered with several ectopic beats that left her slightly breathless with distress. She didn’t want to go back to what there relationship (or perhaps non-relationship was more to the point) had been in the beginning. And though she realised that they had only known each other for a short time, in her mind, it felt like forever; so much had changed in her life! Not least her perception of the real world.

“Severus…” she said tentatively.

Severus gave her thigh a slight nudge to get her to stand and Erin’s feeling of distress intensified as she clambered to her feet with much less than her usual grace. She stepped back hurriedly as Severus surged to his feet and stalked to the chair upon which he had earlier placed the large hold-all.

“Severus, will you please talk to me?” begged Erin. “It can’t be that hard, can it…I want to know who you are…all of you.”

Severus spun to face her, his fist clenched around the handle of the thick fabric bag. His face was a death mask and when he spoke, his voice was a chilling, whispered hiss. It was as if the man who had pulled her into his arms a few minutes earlier had disappeared and this harsh, bitter stranger had taken his place.

“No, you don’t! Believe me you don’t want to know anything…and you most certainly do not need to know!”

Erin’s lips thinned mulishly and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me what I want,” she bit out in her own version of his malevolent tone. Hers of course, fell far short of the mark if it was supposed to intimidate Severus Snape.

“Very well,” said Severus in an even quieter tone, and his eyes were now obsidian chips. “Far be it from me to tell you that you will want to go to bed shortly because we have an early start tomorrow. But if I may…” here, he made a mock bow to her, “I will tell you that you in need to go to bed, because it would appear that lack of sleep seriously undermines your usual talent for clear thinking.”

Erin was now shaking with rage. “You sanctimonious sh…” she pulled herself up with obvious difficulty but she managed to temper her outburst. “…so and so!” She didn’t feel any better for her restraint. “You would rather start this massive fight with me than speak to me about your past!

“I am under no illusions that your past will be able to be held up to close scrutiny, Severus. Your reticence to make any comments about yourself, your inherent dislike of most people, your suspicious conversation with that Selwyn man near the Goblin’s bank…you must think that I’ve been walking around with my head in the clouds if you think that I’m expecting to hear a fairy tale.”

Severus glared at her for many uncomfortable seconds. Erin watched a nerve ticking like a metronome in his jaw. Finally, he turned away from her and with a decided lack of enthusiasm, he hoisted his bag into his arms. Erin heard several heavy objects clunking against each other within its capacious depths. “Just go to bed, Erin,” he said in a dead voice as he moved towards the stairs.

“So, you’re not going to talk to me? You’d rather leave things as they are? After how far we have come…after I told you today exactly what you mean to me?” The anger had faded and Erin was unable to keep the devastation from her voice.

Severus had halted at the base of the stairs. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with several deep breaths.

“It’s because of how far we have come that I refuse to talk to you. This way, I can pretend that you’re still happy to be a part of my life.” He turned away from her again and looked at the stairs as if the effort of climbing them would be equivalent to conquering Everest.

And before he could even lift one foot, Erin flew across the room and insinuated herself between Severus and the stairs. She actually stood on the bottom tread to be closer to his height. When she opened her mouth to speak, Severus held up a hand to silence her. “Please, don’t push this any further. This is not a conversation I can even contemplate having at this time, Erin.

Tears blurred Erin’s vision and she bit down on the corner of her bottom lip to prevent herself sobbing. Severus shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see her distress. “I love you,” she whispered in a husky voice. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned towards him over the top of the holdall. “Nothing…nothing you tell me is going to change that, Severus.”

Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Erin dug her fingers into the black fabric encasing his shoulders and leaned in closer to his face. She cursed the large bag that prevented her wrapping her arms around him.

“I know what kind of a man you are right now, Severus Snape. Quick tempered, inherently nasty, sarcastic and bad tempered…”

“You already said that.”

“No, I said quick tempered. You’re quick tempered and bad tempered, but you are also a good man.” She tried to shake him a little but he was as immovable as a monolith. “You object strongly to doing certain things, but you do them none the less because an old man tells you to do them. An old man who exasperates the hell out of you, but whom you obey implicitly anyway.”

“Albus Dumbledore is my boss,” said Severus in a bored voice.

“Professor Dumbledore is the headmaster of the school in which you teach, so yes, I grant that he is your boss. But rescuing students who are in danger away from the school environment and outside of school term, escorting strange women around the countryside and playing babysitter to both the student and the strange woman do not come under the heading of teaching duties. Those duties are definitely extra-curricular, just as your disappearance the first night I met you was; the disappearance that took you away from your seriously injured patient.

“And though I know how much you profess to despise Harry, I saw how upset you were when you had to leave him when he was suffering so much.”

Severus shook his head and sighed in a long-suffering way. He gave a slight shrug to dislodge Erin’s hands before he grasped the handle of the holdall and lowered it to the floor. Then he took Erin by her upper arms and pulled her down off the stair and into his arms. He didn’t kiss her, but ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, watching the red-gold lights dance in the lamp and firelight. “My story is not a pleasant or a happy one. My past life is something that I have relegated to the furtherest recesses of my mind.

“I wish that you could be happy with what you know of me…though how you have come to care for me even as I am now is something that will never cease to amaze me. “He now cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist to keep his hand on her face.

“I accept that you have many questions that you wish to know the answers to, but I cannot do it tonight.”

Erin opened her mouth to object, but Severus put a long index finger against her lips to silence her. “Tonight, I wish to pretend that you and I might have some kind of a future together. I wish to remember the time we have had together, albeit that it has been so short.”

Erin pulled his hand away. “Severus…”

He interrupted her again. “When we have delivered Potter to the Weasleys, then I will tell you. I beg the next few days of your good opinion and affection. Because after I tell you my story, you will no longer want to be with me.”

Erin shook her head, but before she could verbally refute his words, Severus had claimed her mouth in a desperate kiss. Though she wanted to force the issue, she couldn’t deny him this. Though she wanted to refute his words, she knew it would be pointless; he would not believe her. And if the truth be told, she was more than a little nervous—more so now after his refusal to speak to her—of hearing about his history. He was so sure that she would cast him aside.

Erin cupped Severus’s lean, whisker roughened cheek. “Please don’t shut me out, Severus. Severus’s smile held no humour and Erin saw that his eyes were heartbreakingly sad.

“I won’t have to,” he said softly. “You’ll want to go of your own free will.” He took her arm in a gentle grip and shunted her gently to the side. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” And he passed her with a look of deep regret and sadness. And Erin watched him ascend the stairs and cross the landing without once looking back down at her.

Erin felt as if the last twenty-four hours had never happened. It felt as if the lump in her throat had assumed the approximate proportions of the Isle-of-Lewis, and she lowered herself to sit on the stairs and cried until she was bereft of tears. But by the time she had readied herself for bed, she had found a new reserve of tears and she shed them as well.

8888

When Harry slouched into the dining room the next morning at five to six, with Pumpkin padding along behind him, he found Erin sitting alone with her elbows on the table and grasping her cup of tea with both hands in front of her face. She looked absolutely devastated.

Harry’s stomach plummeted. It looked as she though had asked Snape about himself and it looked as if he had told her the ugly facts. And it most definitely looked as if Erin had not liked what she had heard.

So why didn’t he, Harry feel pleased with this turn of events? It had to be good didn’t it, if Erin wanted nothing more to do with Snape? But it was impossible for Harry to feel pleased or vindicated when Erin looked so thoroughly miserable…when it looked as if she had lost the love of her life. Although how Snape could be the love of anyone’s life was something that Harry knew he would never be able to fathom.

But surely if she had found out about Snape’s past, shouldn’t she be looking happy to have escaped his clutches? She must have been shocked to hear that he was a Death Eater, and as such had probably murdered and tortured countless people—wizards and muggles alike.

Of course, Harry knew that Snape was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix and that Dumbledore trusted him implicitly, but that didn’t entirely negate what he had once been, did it? Nor did it take away from the fact that he was a deeply unpleasant man. Harry had never even seen him smile…not really. He sneered…he didn’t smile.

He had never heard Snape say a kind word to anyone. He was at his most amiable when speaking to his Slytherins, but even then, his voice was laced with sarcasm bordering on disdain. He was reasonably respectful to the other teachers, but not necessarily friendly. He had pretended to be pleased to see Professor McGonagall recovered when she had returned from St. Mungos, after the attack on her person during the last school year when she had been going to Hagrid’s aid. Harry supposed that that display of bonhomie had been for the benefit of himself, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. They had all been present in the Entrance Hall that day.

In fact, he and Malfoy had been ready to duel each other and Snape was in the process of taking points from Harry because he had beaten Malfoy to the draw and Snape had caught him with his wand pointed at the blonde, ferret-faced, Slytherin. Of course, if it had been the other way around, and Malfoy had been caught with his wand pointed at Harry, Harry would have had the points deducted for provoking Malfoy.

Except there had been no remaining rubies in the bottom bulb of the Gryffindor hourglass to deduct—a fact that had produced one of Snape’s trademark sneers—because Snape’s lousy Slytherins had been running around in the guise of a quasi-Nazi student group dubbed the ‘Inquisitorial Squad’, taking points from fellow students for made up misdemeanours. This behaviour had left Gryffindor without any points at all and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff with very few.

The Inquisitorial squad had been made up entirely of Slytherins and they had made sure that they would win the house cup and thoroughly embarrass and ridicule the other three houses—Gryffindor in particular—in the process.

Snape, of course, had known that his students had been running around docking points willy-nilly. And he had just exacerbated the unfairness by continuing to unfairly dock his own points.

The other three heads of house awarded points to any house if they were deserved, but Snape never did. And if he could find a way to turn a point winning exercise into a misdemeanour, he did, and deducted points where they should have been won. These were not the actions of a nice or a just man.

Harry shook his head a little as he slipped into a chair opposite Erin. Really, what was there to like? But, he could not deny the fact that he was looking at Snape and seeing him as most of the students at Hogwarts saw him, an unfair and nasty teacher. And of course he, Harry had even more reason to dislike the man as Snape scaled new heights of unfairness and nastiness when it came to him. Snape’s history with Harry’s father and Godfather were the reasons for that, of course. So naturally, Harry was prejudiced against the man.

It was impossible for Harry to look at Snape and see what Erin obviously saw. But she had said herself that she did not know why she was attracted to Snape. And as Erin was a Muggle—and Harry was pretty sure that muggles and muggle-borns were not high on Snape’s favourite sub-species list—then it stood to reason that his attraction to Erin was just as blind as hers was to him.

Erin didn’t seem to have noticed Harry up to now, but when he reached for the pot of tea she seemed to come out of her sad reverie and she noticed him for the first time. She started a little, but then she lowered her cup and smiled; Harry could see how forced it was, and when she said, “good morning,” her voice was husky.

Erin put her cup back in its saucer and pretended to be interested in a slice of toast on her plate. After taking a sip of his tea, Harry reached for his own slice of toast, but like her, he wasn’t much interested in food. But he went through the ritual of buttering the warm, crisp bread and adding a dollop of marmalade.

They both ate mechanically and in complete silence. Neither of them knew how to broach another subject when the previous nights happenings were so prominent in their thoughts. Erin was no longer angry with Harry, but she was too upset about what had happened with Severus to try to engage Harry in conversation. And Harry didn’t want to see Erin looking more upset than she already was by asking her what had happened.

And where was Snape anyway? The man was usually such a stickler for time. Perhaps he was trying to lay low after his and Erin’s little chat last night. And then a truly horrible thought made Harry choke on a mouthful of toast.

“Are you all right?” asked Erin concernedly as Harry coughed and spluttered.

He nodded and when he could drag in a much needed breath, he grabbed for his cup and gulped down a hasty sip of tea. His eyes were streaming and pushing his glasses up on his forehead, he ground the heels of his hands into his weeping eyes to stem the flow of tears. Erin passed a napkin across the table and Harry grabbed it and wiped at his eyes. After a minute, he seemed to finally have himself under control and straightening his glasses for the last time, he found Erin watching him with concern.

“I’m fine,” he croaked out for her benefit, adding a quick grin to convince her he was telling the truth.

But Harry was far from all right! He had just realised that if Erin and Snape had talked last night, then it had probably come out that he had pushed Erin to ask questions. And if things had gone badly, as it seemed they had, then Snape would probably be even more down on Harry than he normally was. Harry was not looking forward to seeing Snape any time soon, but it was inevitable.

And as if the thought had conjured him, the front door opened and closed with what Harry imagined was an angry snick. What had Snape been doing outside? Harry cast a surreptitious glance at Erin and he saw that her face had become set and her mouth pinched. That was just about what he felt like inside! As they heard Snape approaching, Erin hurriedly reached for another piece of toast. It was obvious that she wanted to appear busy when he entered the room, which he did a second later.

Harry followed Erin’s lead, deciding that it would be prudent to appear busy, and he hastily grabbed a plate and began shovelling scrambled eggs onto it. Harry was surprised when Snape uttered a quiet ‘good morning’, and his eyes darted upwards as Snape pulled out a chair and sat down.

Harry couldn’t help it, his mouth dropped open and the hand holding his plate sagged at the wrist and scrambled eggs spilled onto the tablecloth in a fluffy, moist, golden cascade. He felt his face catch fire as he plonked his plate down and began to hurriedly pick up lumps of messy scrambled eggs with his fingers.

When the mess on the cloth suddenly disappeared, Harry looked up to see Snape putting his wand away. And the second shock of the day came when Snape drawled, “Do try for a bit more decorum, Potter,” by way of an admonishment, instead of the expected blast of furious irritation.

Snape was wearing muggle clothes and his long, black hair—his clean long black hair—was pulled back and caught with a leather thong! This was the shock that had caused Harry’s total lack of coordination. He had never seen Snape in muggle clothes before, and the sight of old, faded jeans and a thick grey cable knit jumper with a white shirt collar at the neck was just too much for his early morning sensibilities. Harry didn’t know why he was so shocked; obviously, now that he thought about it, Snape couldn’t be seen travelling around the countryside in a car wearing his very distinctive wizarding robes. Though he supposed that anyone who saw him might take him for a priest. At another time, that thought would have had Harry collapsing in fits of hysterical laughter.

But the fact that the jeans were so old and faded made it seem likely that Snape had donned them many times before. And Harry couldn’t deny that the casual clothes suited the wizard very well indeed, emphasising long, slim legs and surprisingly well built torso and arms. Wizarding robes did nothing to advertise one’s true build; Snape always looked like a long streak of misery in his unrelenting black robes.

Harry managed to drag his fascinated gaze away from the older man so that he could serve himself some more scrambled eggs and then attempt to eat them. He had to eat them, lest Snape think he was a total idiot for spilling the first lot when he had had no intention of consuming them. Harry supposed Snape couldn’t think him more of an idiot than he already did, though.

Breakfast proceeded in a very uncomfortable silence and Harry kept on shooting covert glances between Snape and Erin. Snape was concentrating on his meal and Erin had gone back to nursing a second cup of tea between both of her hands and holding it in front of her face as an incomplete shield. She kept her eyes on the platter of scrambled eggs. Harry’s stomach was a roiling, churning acid filled cavity that was objecting strongly to his efforts to introduce any more food into it. When he gave up and lowered his fork to his plate, Erin also lowered her cup back into its saucer with a loud clink of fine china.

She stood up and excused herself to the room in general, saying that she needed to finish her packing. Not once did her eyes stray to Snape. Harry wanted to race after her but Snape addressed him before he could move.

“Have you packed your trunk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I suggest you double check your room. I’ll be up in a few minutes to shrink the trunk. It might be an idea if you keep some books out to read; we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Harry just nodded. He was unable to speak. He had expected Snape to be ranting and raving all over the place, particularly in light of what must have taken place last night to make Erin so upset. And not only was he not ranting and raving, he was speaking in a voice entirely devoid of the usual sneering disdain he reserved especially for Harry. Perhaps he didn’t blame Harry for the conversation he and his girlfriend had had last night.

Harry gave a mental shrug as he left the room. Surely Snape must have known that Erin and Harry had spoken together before she had asked Snape about his past. This was all just too weird. Erin was really upset about something…and what else could it be but that Snape’s revelations had been too much for her to cope with? But then, if that was the case, surely Snape would be upset too, and surely that would translate into him lashing out at Harry.

Harry entered his room and began to go through the drawers and wardrobe, double checking that he had everything, and still pondering Erin’s uncharacteristic behaviour. She was normally so upbeat. And if Snape wasn’t upset, then it seemed unlikely that her misery was anything to do with Snape at all. Perhaps she was feeling particularly down about the destruction of her mum and dad’s house. Perhaps she was missing her family. That would certainly not be beyond the realms of possibility. She loved her family…her mum and dad and brother.

He, Harry had been pretty down on and off about Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and he didn’t love them. No, there had certainly been no love lost there, but Harry most certainly had never wanted them dead. If he had, he could have easily left Dudley to the dementors last summer, and he hadn’t. He felt incredibly guilty about his aunt and cousin’s deaths though sensibly he knew that he could not be held responsible for a car accident. Dumbledore had said that no magic had been used to cause the accident. And they had ways to determine these things, didn’t they?

But still, if uncle Vernon had not felt the need to beat Harry practically to death, then perhaps, Aunt Petunia would not have felt the need to leave the house that evening. Maybe if Harry had not been so defiant, Uncle Vernon would have kept his fists and feet and belt to himself. But really, had he done anything so very bad? Had he ever done anything bad enough to warrant the cruel and unusual punishments that his great bullying git of an uncle had felt the need to dole out? If anyone had had to die that evening in that car, why couldn’t it have been Vernon Dursley, instead of his wife and son. Harry didn’t think he would have felt any regret if it had been his uncle who had died.

But with the loss of Aunt Petunia and his cousin, Harry was now truly bereft of any living relatives, and that was a pretty lonely place to be. Harry sighed as he crossed to the window to look down on the front yard. Of course, the Weasleys had been a surrogate family to him since he had first gone to the Burrow in the summer before his second year. Mrs Weasley had actually been looking after him since the Christmas before when she had sent him a jumper and delicious homemade Christmas treats to eat. At that time, she had only seen him for less than five minutes at Kings Cross Station. And then last night Erin had said that she considered herself to be a surrogate older sister to him. Harry’s face burned again. It was her way of letting him and his burgeoning romantic feelings down gently. But he had another surrogate sister. Harry knew that Hermione cared for him like a sister would, just as he cared for her like a brother. He wasn’t so badly off after all. He did have people who cared for him, which was more than his real relatives had ever done.

Harry’s eyes immediately fell upon a car parked just beyond the edge of the wards. It looked like a Ford Escort; similar to a model that Uncle Vernon had owned a few years back, until he had upgraded to a bigger and fancier car. Now that the unpleasantness of last night had passed and Harry’s excitement about going to the Burrow had settled down, and he was actually looking at the car that would carry them south, Harry actually began to think about the logistics of the journey. He wondered how the car had gotten here. He also wondered how Erin was going to cope with the long hours of driving.

Unless…no, surely that wouldn’t happen. Harry shook his head definitively. Snape was the quintessential wizard…surely he couldn’t know how to drive. Could he? Harry had absolutely no idea how much Snape had had to do with the muggle world during his lifetime.

Harry’s lips thinned. The vision he had seen in the pensieve in May; the one where Snape had called Lily Evans a mudblood with such obvious disdain and hatred would indicate that the Slytherin would steer clear of the muggle world if it was at all possible.

Harry headed for the door, glancing around one last time. He nearly tripped over Pumpkin who had slunk around the half closed door. He picked her up and tickled her under the chin, talking nonsense to her as he crossed the landing. But before he could start descending the stairs, he heard quiet voices coming from behind Erin’s closed door. Harry paused for an infinitesimal time and then he crept down the stairs as noiselessly as he could. He didn’t want either Erin or Snape to think he had been eavesdropping. He headed towards the kitchen to say goodbye to Dobby. The little elf would be able to take his mind off what was going on behind that closed bedroom door. And maybe Dobby would know what Snape’s travel plans for Pumpkin were.

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As soon as Potter had left the room, Severus quickly downed a cup of tea and a slice of toast and marmalade. He was still chewing when he took the stairs two at a time. When he put his ear to Erin’s door, all he heard was total silence. He didn’t knock; he didn’t want Potter to hear. He pushed the door open just enough for him to slip through.

Erin was standing at the window and had been looking down into the side garden. There were actually a few hardy plants down there because this was the sheltered side of the garden. Her head had shot up when she heard the door and with her heart in her mouth, she watched Severus enter and close the door.

They stood staring at each other for several highly charged seconds. Severus spoke first.

“Did you sleep?” Erin caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. Then she shook her head.

“Nor I,” Severus said. “The day is not going to be pleasant.” Erin turned back to the window and stared unseeingly at the view.

“I suppose not,” she whispered.

Severus crossed the room and stood behind her. Erin tensed but she did not turn to face him. “It would be so much more tolerable if I knew that you did not hate me.”

Erin spun back to face him. “Hate you!” she whispered, and then a little louder. “Didn’t you hear me last night? I love you. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I love you.” She shook her head. “I know that you have terrible things in your past. If I didn’t know before last night, then I would know now because of your inability to level with…”

Severus dragged her roughly into his arms and crashed his mouth down on hers. Erin froze for a moment…the attack had been unexpected. Then she wrapped her hands in the rough wool of his thick jumper and hung on for dear life as he plundered her mouth. There wasn’t much else she could do but hold on. This wasn’t a kiss to be shared; this was a kiss to be endured. She let him have his way because then it would be her turn.

Finally, after more seconds that she could keep track of, Severus eased the pressure on her mouth and on her arms. His hands rose to cup her jaw and then he peppered little kisses across her bruised lips and then upwards to the tip of her nose and then her closed eyelids. After another eon, Severus rested his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the seductive scent of her apple scented shampoo. “I don’t want to live without you,” he said huskily, his mouth pressed to her hair. “I don’t think I can after having had you in my life.”

Erin lifted her face and kissed the point of his chin. “You don’t have to,” she said, her voice laced with tears. “I don’t want to live without you either, Sev, but you’re going to have to open up to me…you know you are.”

Severus closed his eyes and shook his head, and Erin grasped his face between soft palms and gazed at his tortured features. “I-love-you! Do you understand?”

“You shouldn’t,” he growled softly. “You won’t when you know.”

‘When I know what? That in your past, you were a follower of this Lord Voldemort?”

Severus went absolutely still. Even his breathing was suspended. Finally, he got up the courage to open his eyes. Erin was gazing at him, not with disgust and abhorrence, but with love and sympathetic understanding. He tried to turn his face to escape her hands but she hooked them behind his neck, preventing his escape. He grasped her wrists to break her determined hold but she pulled hid head down until they were eye to eye.

“Don’t shut me out like you did last night. If I’m right, and I think I am, then I know the worse, and I still want you…I still love you.”

“That bloody boy told you!” said Severus in a dangerous voice.

“No, he did not,” Erin said emphatically. He wanted to, but in the end, he couldn’t. He realised that it was your place to tell me.”

“Then how did y…”

“I guessed Severus. You have a secret that you are too ashamed to tell me. It has to be something really appalling. I put all the things together that I mentioned last night and came up with the worst possible conclusion that I could. In your world, it seems that the thing that is most abhorred is Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. You are not Lord Voldemort, so it stood to reason that you were a Death Eater. ”

Severus finally managed to prise Erin’s hands from around his neck. Then he walked across to the window and leaned on the sill, grasping it hard. He couldn’t believe that she knew…that she knew and she was still here, in the same room as he was.

“Why?” he asked softly. Erin walked to him and put her hand on his back, rubbing a soothing circle between his shoulder blades. Severus hunched his shoulders up around his ears.

“Why what?”

“Why are you still here? Why do you still love me?”

“Severus, I always knew that there was something. You were so bitter and you kept yourself apart from all of your colleagues except perhaps for Dumbledore. But even there you seem to hold a small part of yourself back and yet, I sense that you really care for him.

“But that day when you met that man on the steps of the bank, and the conversation I heard…well, there was really only one conclusion to be gained from that.”

Severus raised his head and stared out of the window, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. “So if you were so sure of what I was back then, why did your affection continue to grow?”

“Because I saw the other side of you. Behind the nastiness and the bitterness, behind the terrible temper, I saw a man who was capable of kindness and consideration.

“I saw how you looked after Harry, despite your obvious aversion. The same applied to your care of Remus Lupin, and you abhorrence of him seemed to equal your negative feelings for Harry…behaviour that I still don’t know the reason for, incidentally. That is one of the things we have to discuss.

Severus’s heart sank anew. How was he going to explain to her the reasons behind his ill-treatment of the boy? Even if he had recently begun to feel a degree of contrition for his harsh behaviour towards Potter, he still had to explain why any of it had happened in the first place, particularly as Erin felt a great deal of affection for the pestilential Gryffindor.

“But the one thing that cemented my opinion of just what kind of man you are, was your rescue of Pumpkin…despite all the reasons you gave me as to why you wouldn’t go.”

Severus turned to face Erin. He rested his very attractive denim-clad butt against the windowsill and pulled her between his legs and into his arms. He stared down at her lovely face, his expression a mixture of disbelief and wonderment. “The fact that I rescued your cat was enough to put your mind at rest even though you had convinced yourself that I was an associate of Selwyn’s...even though you knew how ruthless Death Eaters were, knew that they had been responsible for the destruction of your home and the deaths of most of your neighbours, your feelings for me continued to grow?”

“Erin snuggled closer to him. “I could see the other side of you…oh, you made it really hard; you were determined to show yourself in the worst possible light, but actions speak louder than words.”

“You gave as good as you got.”

“You infuriated me. But despite my best efforts to dislike you intensely, I kept on being drawn to you.” Erin took his slim face between her hands and kissed him deeply. “You fascinate me, Severus Snape,” she whispered against his lips. “And I know you are not an evil monster.”

“Many would argue that point with you.”

“Only because you’re determined to exaggerate that side of yourself. I’ve come to the conclusion that most of it’s an act. And as you are really Dumbledore’s man, I presume that a lot of it is an act.”

Severus sighed. “So, you’ve worked that out too.”

“Severus, as you’re here with Harry Potter, a boy you purportedly hate and who is the person that Lord Voldemort wants above all others and you’re here under Dumbledore’s orders, then it stands to reason that you’re working for Dumbledore.” Erin draped her forearms over Severus’s shoulders and began to fiddle with his hair. She looked worried.

“You’re a spy, aren’t you?”

Severus sighed. He gently pushed Erin backwards so that he could get to his feet. Then he framed her face with his slender hands. “Now that I know you’re not going to bolt, because you already know the worse, I promise that I will tell you everything there is to know about me. It isn’t a nice story, any of it…except the end where I found you.” He claimed her mouth in a gentle kiss but after only a few seconds, he pulled back.

“We have a long journey ahead of us, but I promise that once we have delivered our charge, I will tell you a very dark tale.” When Erin frowned, he added, “The telling will take more time than we have now…we should already be on our way. Can you be happy with that?”

Erin bit that corner of her lip that often found its way between her teeth. But then she nodded. “And you’ll tell me all about Harry too? And why he is at the centre of everything and why you seem to hate him so much?

Another sigh escaped Severus’s mouth, this one long-suffering. He nodded. “My story can't be told without including the name, Potter,” he said bitterly. But before Erin could remonstrate with him, he stepped away from her and indicated the open bag on her bed.

“Are you all packed.”

Erin allowed the change of subject and she nodded. She moved to the bed and zipped up the bag. Then she hoisted the empty cat basket onto the bed. “What are we doing with Pumpkin? She won’t enjoy a long car trip.

Severus took the basket from her and opened the door, ushering Erin onto the landing. “I think Dobby should take Pumpkin back to Hogwarts with him. As the castle is going to be your home for the foreseeable future, your cat can become better acquainted with its environs.”

Before descending the stairs he strode to Harry’s room where he found the closed trunk on the floor at the end of the bed. Erin watched from the door, fascinated as ever, as Severus drew his wand, waved it over the trunk and said, “Reducio!”

The trunk was now the size of a matchbox and Severus bent easily and scooped it up off the floor. When he straightened, Erin was smiling and shaking her head. Severus quirked an eyebrow in question.

“I still have trouble believing it, you know,” she said over her shoulder as she led the way down the stairs. “It defies everything that I ever learned about physics and…well, about everything, really.”

“I grew up with a magical parent,” said Severus, “so I have known magic and that I was magical my whole life. But as with muggles, not all wizards and witches are overly talented. Many are very mediocre indeed.”

At the base of the stairs, Erin turned around and raised her own eyebrow in question. “And just how do you rate your magical ability, Professor Snape?” she asked saucily.

Severus smirked. “I’m no Dumbledore…but I get by.”

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They found Harry slouched sideways in an armchair with his legs thrown over the arm. Pumpkin was lying on his chest purring like an idling engine, with her little head practically under Harry’s chin. Harry was idly rubbing the cat’s ears and gazing out of the picture windows at the sea birds wheeling above the cliffs.

It was several seconds before he realised that the two adults had joined him and as soon as he saw Snape he scrambled to stand, Pumpkin hissing as she was dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

“Ready to go Potter?” asked Severus.

Harry nodded and looked pointedly at the clock on the mantle. It said twenty past seven, but he refrained from saying anything. Severus opened his holdall which was on the coffee table. While he delved inside, Harry shot a glance at Erin, who conjured a tight little smile at him. She no longer looked devastated. Whatever had happened in her bedroom had obviously gone well.

Harry didn’t want to think about what might have gone on in there. Though if that had gone on, it hadn’t taken them very long. He turned away and squeezed his eyes shut. He definitely wasn’t going to go there. He didn’t like thinking about Snape at the best of times, but to think about him having sex was just way, way, way too much.

“I want you to drink this Potter.” Harry spun back around. Snape was pouring a measure of thick, mud coloured potion into a glass. Harry recognised it immediately and he goggled at Snape, who was now opening a small vial and extracting a single hair.

“What!” sputtered Harry, as Severus added the hair and the potion sizzled a little and produced a quantity of steam. “Polyjuice Potion! No one said anything about Polyjuice Potion.”

“I’m saying it now. You need to be disguised. Professor Dumbledore and I discussed it and we feel that this is the best way to keep you hidden until we get to the Burrow.”

Harry remembered all too well the horrible bubbling and churning in his gut and then the pain of the transformation from when he had taken Polyjuice in his second year at Hogwarts. And the taste had made him gag. He shook his head.

“But sir, I’ll have to repeat the dose every hour on the hour. It’ll take forever to get to the Burrow by car and if I have to take that many doses of the stuff, I’ll be sick.”

“I've tweaked the formula, Potter. The potion will not wear off until I give you an antidote.”

Harry didn’t like the idea of that either. What if something happened to the antidote? What if something happened to Snape and he couldn’t make any more antidote? He would be stuck looking like…looking like…

“Whose hair was that?” he asked in a nervous voice.

“I have no idea. I took it from a muggle boy of about your age and build. If it will make you feel any better, I too am taking Polyjuice to disguise myself.” That didn’t really make Harry feel any better. He wished like crazy that they could floo to the Burrow and then Snape could come back for Erin. But for some reason, Dumbledore wanted them all travelling together and he wanted them to do it an a thoroughly non-magical fashion.

Snape thrust the glass at Harry who looked at it with distaste. Then he turned to Erin.

“And I’m going to have to transfigure you too, Erin. Every Death Eater knows exactly what you look like and though it is unlikely we will run into any along the way, we can’t take any chances.

Erin eyed the potion, glad that she didn’t have to drink the stuff. Harry’s glass of liquid had now turned an oatmeal colour. But like Harry, she wanted to know what Severus was going to make her look like.

Fifteen minutes later, Paul Vale, his sister Fiona and his son, Aidan were travelling southwards towards Stornaway and the ferry that would sail them across to the Scottish mainland.

Aidan Vale was so not happy with his father!

Harry glowered at the back of the neat blonde head of the man sitting in the front, driver’s seat of the Ford Escort that would ultimately carry them and the dark-haired young woman in the front passenger seat to the Burrow. The Weasley home was some seven hundred miles from where he and his travel companions had been staying on the Isle of Lewis.

Seven hundred miles! God, how was he going to survive travelling in a car with Severus Snape for the length of time it would take to get to Devon, where the Burrow was situated? It didn’t even matter that the man didn’t look like Snape anymore. Paul Vale was Severus Snape; the grey tinged blonde hair and grey eyes couldn’t disguise the ‘superior to thee’ attitude of the man. Harry turned his head and stared out the side window. He glimpsed a pale reflection of a chubby face, longish brown hair and ingenuous blue eyes; he wasn’t much pleased with this picture either. The face belonged to a kid no older than twelve.

When Harry had first seen his new body back at the Haven, he had been furious and had demanded to know why Snape had lied to him about the kid’s age. Snape had just looked bored and said, “I would have thought that would be obvious, even to you, Potter. I wanted you to take the potion with no more argument.”

And then he had added that he thought his choice had been appropriate because Harry acted like a twelve year old most of the time, so he might just as well be a twelve year old. Harry had wanted to smack him one. And he had to pretend that this arse was his father! Who had come up with that idea? Harry would bet his Firebolt that it hadn’t been Snape. Snape would as soon want Harry Potter or Aidan Vale, or whomever the hell he was at the moment, as a son, as he would want to dance the tango with Voldemort.

Once in the car, and having gotten over the immense shock of seeing his rigidly magical Potions professor climb in behind the steering wheel, Harry sat silent in the back seat for several miles trying to digest the fact that his world has once again been turned on its head. Snape could drive. Would wonders never cease? Wait until he told Ron and Hermione.

As mile after mile of sameness rolled past the windows, Harry became bored. He began to ask questions of this new Snape about their journey. Showing the patience of a saint—no doubt for Erin’s benefit—Severus indulged his curiosity for several miles, but finally, he baulked and asked Erin to extract a large map of the British Isles from the glovebox and hand it back to Harry. Harry spent the next eight or so minutes of the journey studying the map and trying to work out distances. Stornaway did indeed seem to be the only town of any real size on the Isle of Lewis; there did appear to be other small settlements, but they could scarcely be given a name as grand as ‘town’. They travelled what must have been fifteen miles from ‘the Haven’ without seeing any signs of human life…plenty of shaggy sheep, certainly, but no people or cars.

They stopped once when a very determined sheep refused to move from the middle of the road. A blast on the horn did nothing to encourage it to move, and Snape ended up getting out of the car to deal with the recalcitrant, four-footed (or hoofed) pedestrian.

Erin got out to assist and when Harry attempted to do the same, Snape pointed at him and ordered him to stay put. Harry slammed the door and watched with vindictive pleasure as the two adults struggled with the sheep who seemed determined not to give up his staked-out territory. How ridiculous was it that Snape wouldn’t let him help? What was going to happen to him here, in the middle of nowhere, on a road devoid of traffic, except for the four legged variety? And if it came to that, someone could do away with him whilst he sat here alone and they were out there playing Ring A Ring a Rosie with Mary’s not so little lamb! True to his earlier edict, Snape’s wand did not leave his pocket, or his sleeve, or wherever in the hell he stashed it.

Before they had left the house, Snape had warned Harry that absolutely no magic was to be used when they were outside the wards that had protected the safe-house. Dumbledore and Snape were not willing to take the chance that Voldemort might not have followers within the ministry, and as the ministry could detect random acts of magic, particularly if they originated from an area where it was known that no magical folk dwelt…well, the risk was too great, unless there was a dire emergency.

The strong wards surrounding the property where they had been staying meant that no magic performed within its boundaries could be detected in the outside world. So, they were to remain non-magical during the whole journey…well, that was a given for Harry anyway, as he was underage.

Obviously, stubborn sheep were not considered a dire enough emergency and so it took a good ten minutes to convince the shaggy menace that he would be much happier on the other side of the fence where the grass was greener. Erin found a hole in the fence that ran parallel to the road and Snape eventually stuffed the beast back through and performed a very makeshift, manual repair on the fence.

Harry hid a smirk when his dad and aunt practically staggered back to the car. They were both severely dishevelled and Snape looked as if he would have quite liked to be making a mutton stew! Erin pushed several stray locks of her newly dark hair out of her face with the back of her hand. She then opened the glovebox and extracted a container of wet-wipes, several of which she handed to Snape. Lanolin from the sheep’s fleece had coated his hands; he swiped at them irritably.

“You can get that smirk off your face, Aidan,” he bit out, and Harry glanced up to see those unfamiliar grey eyes flashing angrily at him through the rear view mirror. It took a few seconds, but Harry was finally able to dispense with the smirk.

“Sorry,” he muttered with a passable attempt at contrition. Snape was not impressed however.

“I'm not in the mood for any of your idiocy, Potter,” said Severus nastily as he started the car and set it in motion. “So just get yourself into the right frame of mind for this little charade. Right now!”

Harry saw Erin reach across the centre console and lay a placatory hand on Severus’s knee. Harry’s stomach dropped and his mental smirk disappeared along with the physical one. He turned again to gaze unseeingly out of the side window.

Harry had temporarily forgotten, that his two companions were now very much an item, what with the strangeness of the whole scenario he found himself a part of. He was sitting in a car with two total strangers, who weren’t really strangers at all. Added to that was the improbability of Snape looking and acting so much the Muggle. He had to wonder how hard it was going to be for Snape and Erin to pretend to be siblings. As hard as it was going to be for him to pretend that Snape was his dad?

I’m sorry, Dad, whispered Harry to James Potter. He hoped his real dad wherever he was, knew that this was not his idea.

The barren landscape they had, until now, been driving through was giving way to the beginnings of the built up area that denoted the outskirts of a town. Harry presumed they were entering the town of Stornaway. Snape had told him that Stornaway was the major town—the only proper town apparently, on the Isle of Lewis—and was where they would board the ferry that would sail them across to the mainland.

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Harry stood near the railing on the rear deck of the ‘Isle of Lewis’, the ferry that was sailing him back to the Scottish mainland. He was watching the picturesque town of Stornaway recede into the distance. Snape and Erin were standing a short distance off, talking quietly together and keeping an annoyingly close eye on him. In Harry’s opinion—and he knew it would not be appreciated—the two of them were standing a little too close and were looking a little too cosy to be siblings. Snape had a very sour expression on his face because he would have been so much happier sitting in the cafeteria section of the large vessel, enjoying a hot drink.

Erin had convinced him to pander to Harry in this, and so here they were, huddled deep in the waterproof coats that had, fortuitously, been in the boot of the car, catching their collective breaths against the cold wind and feeling the salt spray in their faces. The only thing that Harry liked about being Aidan Vale was that he had twenty-twenty vision. The owner of the hair had perfect eyesight. Back at the Haven, Snape had taken his glasses, which were now superfluous, put an unbreakable charm on them and stowed them in his big bag.

Harry leaned happily on the railing. He was grateful for Erin’s intervention; he certainly didn’t want to be inside for the duration of the crossing, which apparently took approximately two and a half hours.

There were quite a few other people hanging around the rear deck, despite the cold wind. Some were sitting on the anchored seats and others were standing at the railing. Harry knew that Snape was keeping an eagle eye on everyone, and when a rather large man came and stood right beside the small of stature (it would have been so nice to be tallish for once) Aidan Vale, Severus left Erin several feet away and came and stood close to Harry’s other side. Harry rolled his eyes. His father was definitely paranoid.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harry glanced around to see a cute little girl run up to the man and grab hold of her daddy’s leg. He hoisted her into his arms as a large woman came to stand beside them. At the sight of the family group, Severus relaxed a little, but not entirely. But the couple and their daughter didn’t move away from their vantage point and Severus had finally had enough.

“Come along Aidan, let’s get inside and warm up.”

Harry wanted to say, ‘aww Da-ad! Can’t I stay out here?’ but on balance, he thought it unwise to antagonise Snape. When he turned away from the rapidly diminishing coastline, the little girl grinned and poked her tongue out at him from over her father’s shoulder. Harry grinned back, and poked his tongue out in turn, but Severus put a firm hand on his shoulder and guided him away before the game could progress any further.

As soon as they were inside, Harry shrugged his shoulder to displace the firm hand. “I can walk, thanks,” he said irritably.

“Then walk!” bit out Severus in low tones.

In the cafeteria, they were able to commandeer a table to themselves and Erin and Harry sat while Severus went to the counter to get some drinks. Harry was scowling as he stared out of the salt-encrusted window. Erin put a hand over his fist which was resting on the table.

“Harry, just play along. The time will go much faster and much more pleasantly if you just go with the flow,” she said gently.

Harry’s nostrils whitened as he inhaled an angry, bitter breath. “He’s such a shit!” he burst out, and when he noticed several heads turn in their direction, he reddened and lowered his voice considerably. “Why does he have to hover every second?” He twisted around in his seat and glared at Snape as he put in his order. Sure enough, as Harry glared, Snape turned to check that his charge was still seated and safe. Harry faced forwards again and slumped down in his seat with his arms clamped tightly across his chest.

“First he lies to me about the potion, and now he won’t leave me alone for even a few minutes. What? Does he expect a Death Eater to jump out at me here in the middle of the bloody sea? After we’ve sailed from an island that you can bet most of the population of Britain has never even heard of?”

“He’s doing everything to protect you. Perhaps if you worked with him instead of against him…”

Harry pulled his hand out from under Erin’s. He looked at her angrily, his lips tight. “Work with him after being tricked into looking like a kid who’s four years younger than I am…”

“Shh!” Erin hushed him as quietly as she could. “We shouldn’t be talking…”

“Yes, Aidan!” said a furiously tight voice close to Harry’s ear, and Severus placed a laden tray on the table and slid into the seat next to Harry. Those grey eyes bore into Harry, whose lips tightened with impotent fury. He slowed his breathing, fighting for control.

The rolling motion of the ship was starting to make him feel squeamish. Plus, his scar had started to prickle about an hour ago and it was steadily getting worse. He didn’t rub at it, even though he longed to do so because he didn’t want to draw attention to it.

He wanted to tell Snape where to go in suitably colourful language, but he figured Erin wouldn’t be too happy with him, so he bit his tongue. He slowed his breathing to try to stem the heaviness in his stomach that was now really starting to be a problem. In, out, in, out…he concentrated on each breath and continued to stare out of the window at the grey sky. Rain began to hit the glass with little staccato pings and the dining room began to fill up as people sought shelter from the inclement weather.

“Are you OK, H…Aidan? You’ve gone really pale,” said Erin concernedly as she peered closely at him after pouring him a mug of tea. She squeezed his hand where it was clenched on the table again. There was a plate of scones, and dishes of jam and cream, and the sight of the food didn’t do anything for Harry’s steadily worsening nausea. He averted his eyes. The ship was pitching quite violently now. Severus watched the boy’s face take on a delicate greenish hue; trust Potter to suffer from sea-sickness.

“Can I go outside?” asked Harry in a tight voice.

Severus looked out at the driving rain that was being flung violently against the windows. The temperature looked to have dropped another ten degrees. But by the time he had turned back to Harry, it was too late. Both he and Erin were taken by surprise when Harry shot out of his chair and pushed through the milling crowd, and out the nearest door. By the time Severus realised that Harry had moved and had followed after him, Harry was leaning over the side railing, offering up the meagre contents of his stomach to the sea.

Harry was already dripping wet by the time Severus joined him. So violent were his spasms, he was leaning very precariously over the railing and Severus automatically grabbed for the back of his waterproof and hauled him back a little. The wind was just about strong enough to lift the slight figure up and over the railing.

Harry continued to retch for another couple of minutes and he seriously wished Snape would let him go so that he could throw himself overboard. He had been sick plenty of times before, but this felt worse than anything that had ever come before. Ever!

Finally, he groaned and leaned his head on his arms which were wrapped tightly around the cold, wet metal of the railing. His knees were shaking and he knew if he let go, he would collapse onto the deck.

God, kill me now!

“Merlin, Potter, you are going to drive me to drink,” muttered Severus as he half carried, half dragged Harry into a corner out of the wind, and the worst of the freezing rain. He pushed him down into a chair and after delving into a deep pocket in his waterproof, Severus knelt down in front of the boy whose eyes were closed, his face as pale as one of the Hogwarts’ ghosts.

“Drink this,” said Severus in what was for him, a sympathetic tone. But when Harry remained oblivious to his words, Severus took his lower face in a forceful grip and pried his mouth open. Harry tried to prise the strong hand away, but as he was too weak to lift his arms for more than a second or two, Severus prevailed. The contents of a small vial was poured down Harry’s throat.

Harry held his breath and waited for the potion to exit his body the same way it had gone in. But within seconds of the tasteless concoction hitting his stomach, the terrible nausea he was still feeling even after emptying the whole of his digestive tract, began to abate. His respirations evened out and a modicum of colour returned to his face. He was still exceptionally pale, but the blue tinge to his lips and his earlobes showed that his pallor was as much to do with the cold as it was with his indisposition.

“Are you well enough to stand now?” asked Severus, his own voice somewhat shaky with the cold. He longed to pull out his wand and cast a simple Drying and Warming Charm. They could both end up with pneumonia.

Harry gave a tiny nod and tried to stand, but he couldn’t do it without assistance. Severus took his arm in a firm grip and together, they half walked, half staggered back into the musty warmth of the cafeteria.

“Oh, you poor dears,” said an elderly lady sitting at the table nearest the door. “I saw the wee young bairn out there,” she said in a Scottish accent so broad, it might just as well have been a foreign language for all that Harry understood. Severus seemed to have no trouble deciphering the guttural sounds however. Somehow, his arm had found its way around Harry’s slender shoulders.

“Yes,” Severus said politely. “My son has quite a weak stomach. We were hoping for a smooth crossing.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulders in an affectionate gesture.

Harry thought that the potion must have been a hallucinogenic because he was standing here clamped to Severus Snape’s side and there wasn’t an aggressive gesture to be seen from the man. But then, Harry already knew that the man was an accomplished actor.

“He’s feeling much better now though, aren’t you son?” said Paul Vale, smiling down into Aidan’s face. Harry offered a very forced smile, but the old lady didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Now we just have to hope that we both don’t end up with pneumonia,” said Severus, and with a brief smile and a nod of his head, he said goodbye and ushered Harry back across the room to the table where Erin had remained behind, waiting and worrying.

Erin pulled out a chair and Severus pushed Harry down into it. “God, you’re both freezing,” said Erin concernedly, and she took one of Harry’s hands in both of hers and began to chafe it.

“I’m OK,” said Harry through chattering teeth. He tried to pull his hand free but Erin tightened her grip while looking over at Severus. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting down in his wet, cold jeans. He cursed silently and fluently. What was the bloody point of being a wizard if he couldn’t even dry off? Severus felt the teapot with his own freezing hand. It was just barely warm.

“I’ll get a fresh one,” said Erin. She released Harry’s hand and jumped up. Severus watched her for a few seconds as she ordered a fresh pot of tea. Then he turned back and watched Harry rub his forehead hard with three rigid fingers where his scar would have been situated. Of course, Aidan didn’t have a visible scar, but it was obvious from Harry’s facial contortions that he was in pain. His slender body was wracked with shudders from the deep-seated chill that must have permeated as deep as his bones. It had certainly permeated Severus’s and he wondered fleetingly in one small corner of his mind whether they were ever going to experience summer weather again.

Severus could see the old lady looking over at them. She smiled when Severus nodded at her in a friendly acknowledgment. He leaned in close to Harry on the pretext of checking his temperature. “How long has your scar been bothering you?” he asked quietly.

Harry jerked away from the unexpectedly gentle touch and his eyes flew open. “It’s not!” His automatic denial emerged from between chattering teeth.

Severus tried to raise one disbelieving eyebrow, but the man whose body Severus now inhabited didn’t appear to have that ability. Both eyebrows hiked towards his hairline. The action didn’t feel half as menacing, but Harry wasn’t looking anyway. He had slumped back in his seat and wrapped his arms tightly across his chest.

“Don’t lie to me, Aidan. You’re in pain. Was that part of the reason why nausea overtook you so quickly?”

Harry thought about lying but he really didn’t have the energy to think up something convincing. He nodded. “It’s been aching on and off since just before we left Stornaway.”

Erin returned to the table with another tray. She had a very determined look on her face as she set it down and poured two steaming mugs of tea. Severus took one and wrapped his freezing hands around it. His eyes didn’t stray from Harry. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Here, Aidan, drink this.” Erin forced the mug into Harry’s hands, but he was trembling so much with the cold, some of the scalding liquid slopped over the rim of the cup and onto his hands.

He cried out in pain and would have automatically dropped the cup except that Erin still had a partial grip on it. She placed it back on the tray as Severus grabbed up a handful of paper serviettes and passed them to her. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said as she gently mopped his hands. “Are you OK?”

“At least they’re warm now,” he said with an unconvincing grin, but then his face and eyes screwed up again and he gave a little moan as a particularly vicious jab of pain speared through his invisible scar. When it had passed he, opened his eyes and looked into the set face of Paul Vale.

“He’s up to something big,” Harry said weakly. “Something that he and the others are really enjoying.”

Severus’s hand jerked a little and he lowered his cup back onto the table. Automatically it seemed, he rubbed his left forearm through the thick woollen sleeve of his jumper. He stopped when he felt both Erin’s and Harry’s eyes watching him.

Harry raised his eyes to Severus’s face. Severus glared back at him for a second and then surged to his feet. “Come on, Aidan, let’s get into some dry clothes,” he said brusquely, peeling his coat from the back of the chair. Harry pushed his shaggy, fringe out of his blue eyes.

Erin knew that some silent communication was going on between the two wizards and she looked confused and concerned. “Can’t he finish his drink?” she asked. “He needs to warm up on the inside.”

“He’ll never warm up as long as he’s in those wet clothes.” Severus took Harry’s arm again and moved in the opposite direction to the one they had taken before. They exited the cafeteria through an internal door and headed towards the stairs that would take them down to the level where their car was parked.

Once Severus was sure that Harry wasn’t going to collapse, he released his arm and led the way. Erin and Harry hurried along behind, their feet echoing in the large space where there were about twenty cars parked in close formation.

“But all my clothes are in my trunk, and you shrunk that,” said Harry as Severus opened the boot and pulled out the large, heavy denim hold-all.

“I have extra clothes for you and I in here,” Severus said tersely, and he produced a pair of grey cords, a long-sleeved tee-shirt and a cream polo necked jumper. There was also, Harry noticed with chagrin, a pair of underpants and a pair of socks.

Harry looked at his pile of clothes and then watched Snape extract another set of clothes for himself from the bag. The bag was roomy, but not that roomy. He realised that the bag must have the same Undetectable Extension Charm on it that all School trunks did. Ron had explained the charm to him way back in first year when Harry had marvelled over the fact that he could fit his new Nimbus Two Thousand broom into his trunk easily. He had always been amazed that along with all of his school supplies and his robes and Muggle clothes, his substantial cauldron also fit easily into the trunk. The trunk was big, but not that big.

Ron had been amazed that Harry hadn't known about Undetectable Extension Charms. Of course Harry realised that there had to be some magic at play; he had just never bothered to ask, not wanting to appear too clueless.

“But where did these clothes come from?” asked Harry as a shiver wracked him from head to toe.

“Never mind about that now,” growled Snape. “Get over there between the two cars and change.”

“Harry goggled at him. “I’m not getting changed here!” he said, outraged. “What if someone comes down here?”

“Just do as you’re told, idiot boy! Erin and I will stand guard at either end.” At the mutinous look on Harry’s face, he added in a deadly voice. “Do it!”

Harry took another moment to glare his all consuming hatred before stomping to the other side of the car. He put the clothes down on the cleanest bit of floor he could find and then began to fumble with the zip of his jacket with his stiff, cold hands.

It took longer than Harry could have believed possible to divest himself of the cold, clammy clothes that clung uncomfortably to his skin and then to haul the dry items on. He removed the top layers first and redressed in the tee-shirt and jumper, hoping that they would be long enough to shield his bottom half a little when he removed his jeans and underpants. As soon as he was enshrouded in the thick jumper, he could feel blessed warmth start to permeate his bones. That was so much better. Harry rubbed the soft wool of the jumper. He didn’t know why he was surprised that the clothes fit his twelve year old body so well. Snape had obviously had his humiliation planned for a while.

Without a word, Snape took Harry’s place while Harry stood at one end of the space between the cars, and Erin stayed at her post at the other end. Harry kept his eyes facing resolutely outwards, as Snape and Erin had done when he was changing. Snape in Muggle clothes was one thing…Snape partially naked was entirely another.

Once dry and warming up nicely and feeling tolerably human again, Harry watched Snape as he stowed the wet clothing in a corner of the boot. He then followed the two adults as they climbed from the lower decks and entered the big lounge area with its leather sofas and groups of chairs. Harry took a seat facing the windows; the rain seemed to have stopped and he could even see a couple of small patches of blue sky. Hallelujah! Perhaps the day might improve after all. But then his invisible scar gave a particularly vicious twinge and Harry knew that someone’s day had just gotten a whole lot worse.

Severus had seated himself with his back to the view so that he could keep an eye on all the comings and goings. He saw Harry rub the place where his scar would have been with the heel of his hand and he wondered with an ever growing sense of dread what the Dark Lord and his cohorts were up to.

He turned to Erin. “Could you go and get us some more hot drinks? Perhaps this time, we might be able to finish them.”

Erin looked between Harry and Severus. It was obvious Severus had to speak to Harry, and he wanted to do it in private. As he didn’t look angry about anything, she didn’t feel apprehensive about leaving them alone together. She nodded and left them to it, making a mental note to ask Severus what was going on.

“Is this pain not wearing off?” asked Severus, quietly, leaning towards Harry with his elbows on his knees.

“It is now,” said Harry, and it was the truth. Following that last, sharp jab, the pain was receding.

Severus’s eyebrows rose. “So…”

“So, whatever he and…and the others were up to, is now over,” explained Harry, dejectedly. He looked up at Severus, and Severus had to admit that that chubby face and those blue eyes were rather disconcerting when it should have been a thin face and green eyes that he was looking at when the subject matter was so dire. The blue eyes were not outstanding in any way, nothing like the striking deep green eyes that usually glared at him with such active dislike. the blue eyes were, at this moment, looking at him with something resembling a heartfelt plea to assuage his fears.

Strangely, Severus wished he could comply. Who would have ever thought that he would feel even more sympathy for the plight of James Potter’s son?

“Surely you know what he’s up to,” said Harry desperately.

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “I am here with you, Aidan. How am I supposed to know what he’s up to?”

Harry leaned in a little closer. “But why weren’t you…you know?”

“Contrary to what you may think, my fine young yeoman, I am rarely…you know,…invited to participate in certain events. Nor am I in a certain person’s ear to the extent where I would know all his plans.” Severus took a deep breath.

“I have not seen him since that night nearly two weeks ago. I am charged with finding a particular person vital to his plans.”

“Harry looked down to where their knees were nearly touching. “Oh,” was all he could find to say.

“So you don’t actually have a vision of what is happening?” asked Severus. “When your scar acts up.”

Harry shook his head. “No, he…I…I just seem to feel his emotions. Whatever just happened, he was really happy about.”

Severus looked grim. “He’s usually happiest when causing pain and suffering.”

When Erin returned, her two wizards were both sitting in a seemingly amiable silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It was a very nice change not to see them at each other’s throats for once, nor even glaring daggers at each other.

Just over an hour later, Paul Vale and his little family drove off the Isle of Lewis onto the ferry terminal at Ullapool.

Harry, in the guise of Aidan Vale, sat slumped in the back of the Ford Escort, his eye level only just above the base of the side window. The nondescript blue eyes with their short, stubby eyelashes were flickering rapidly backwards and forwards as the car sped through the beautiful fertile valleys and river plains of the Perth and Kinross area in the very heart of Scotland.

Harry was exhausted and he was starting to feel decidedly ill again. And the place where his scar should have been visible, was starting to throb with an incessant, dull pain that echoed the drumbeat of the headache that had started as a muted ache about an hour ago, and which was now pummelling the inside of his skull with relentless ferocity.

They had been driving for hours since leaving the ferry terminal town of Ullapool; in fact, it seemed like days to Harry. Snape had stopped briefly in Ullapool and had bought some supplies for them for a lunch on the run, and other than one fifteen minute toilet stop in Inverness they had travelled non-stop. One would have been hard pressed to ignore the beautiful countryside they had been driving through; the Scottish Highlands were absolutely spectacular, and the first two hours of the journey had passed easily and, considering Severus Snape was in the car, relatively pleasantly. Harry had to admit that there had been, amazingly, a distinct lack of snark.

As they had approached Inverness, Harry had seen many a signpost informing them that Loch Ness was a short distance away. Harry would desperately have loved to see the famous loch and its even more famous inhabitant, but it was obvious that the chauffeur had no intentions of taking any side trips. So Harry had bitten his tongue and made the most of his allotted fifteen minutes in Inverness…not that he had been able to have any privacy. Snape was never more than a few feet away, even in the loo!

Erin had made an effort to initiate conversations that included Harry, and for a while, the three of them had conversed sporadically about the view, the (for once) pleasant weather, and other harmless subjects. They had carefully avoided mention of Harry’s indisposition on the ferry, and the possible reasons why his scar might have hurt at that particular point in time.

But more often than not, Harry had remained silent, allowing Snape and Erin to converse in quiet, soppy voices to each other; he had made every effort to shut out the utterances of the lovebirds in the front of the car and bury the small amount of resentment that he still harboured. They seemed to forget he was with them for significant periods of time, but that suited Harry just fine. While they whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ears, Harry gazed at the beautiful countryside and pondered what Voldemort and his minions might have been up to earlier that day.

Once, while driving through a particularly picturesque area of the Highlands, Harry had suddenly snapped out of his apathy; the topography looked very familiar. After several minutes studying the view, Harry had asked Snape if they were anywhere near Hogwarts. Severus’s black eyes had shot a penetrating look at Harry through the rear-view mirror. Erin had watched Severus too, as he seemed to deliberate over his answer, but finally—and reluctantly, it seemed to Harry—he answered. “Hogwarts is indeed in this general vicinity, Potter, but more than that, I will not say.”

Harry had made sure that Snape’s concentration was back on the road before he rolled his eyes and wondered why the big secret. Did the idiot think he might want to take an ad out in the Times informing the world of the location of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Harry had long since come to the conclusion that magical folk were more than a little paranoid.

8888

Severus had been looking in the rear-view mirror more and more frequently, though he was not checking for cars behind their vehicle; he was watching Potter. Over the last hour, the colour that had slowly climbed back into Aidan’s chubby cheeks after they had disembarked the ferry, had ebbed out again, leaving the disconcertingly unfamiliar features, chalk white and strained. Severus had never thought that he would miss not looking at Harry Potter’s distinctive features, but he was more than a little disconcerted every time he looked into Aidan’s small blue eyes, rather than the vibrant emerald jewels surrounded by their long sweep of curling ebony lashes that were distinctly Harry Potter’s.

Even Severus had to admit that Potter’s eyes were unusually attractive—as had been his mother’s; their vibrancy was not marred in the slightest for being confined behind the round lenses of the glasses he had to wear. It amazed Severus, now that he thought about it, that the unremarkable blue eyes of the muggle boy whose hair he had commandeered, seemed to have perfect vision, and yet Potter’s astonishing eyes did not work as well as they should without benefit of glasses. The strange notion slithered into his mind after he watched those disconcerting blue eyes on and off for a few minutes and found that he very much wished he was looking at Potter’s own eyes and familiar face.

Strange notion indeed, and one that had Severus shaking his head at his own errant thinking. When had he ever wished to see Harry Potter? Erin reached across and touched his arm, drawing his attention to her; looking at the dark-haired woman next to him was also disconcerting…he very much wanted to be looking at the features he had fallen so heavily for. Erin raised her eyebrows in silent query, having noted Severus’s preoccupation, but he offered a small smile and shook his head lightly to indicate that it was nothing.

The only thing that Severus could think of that might explain the inexplicable softening of his brain in regards to Potter, was the presence of Erin in his life. Ever so slowly, he had found himself being able to accept Potter’s proximity with only the merest trace of his previous ill-feeling and anger.

Potter had begun to surprise him though, before the holidays had even started, even before Black’s death. Severus had been amazed that he had not been the recipient of any nasty smirks or sniggers from the Gryffindors…from the Golden Triumvirate, specifically. He had expected Potter to broadcast the events he had witnessed in the pensieve far and wide, despite his, Severus’s threats of retribution if he did so.

But strangely, nothing untoward had happened; indeed, Potter had looked exceedingly depressed and thoughtful every time Severus had seen him, and that attitude had only become worse of course, after the horrific events at the Ministry. He had never known Potter to be so quiet and unobtrusive, and after the Ministry, even defeated.

Of course, Potter’s misery had done little to stem the mistreatment he had received at the hands of his Potions Professor; Severus had scaled new heights of immaturity with his vindictiveness. Breaking the boy’s potion sample in their first lesson after the pensieve incident had been one example…of course, in his own defence, he had not expected Granger to have cleared away Potter’s cauldron, banishing its contents in her zeal. He had allowed for the fact that the boy would be able to bottle another sample and hand it in. He had not planned to deliberately break a second.

A second example had been his failure to indicate to Potter in some way that he had understood his frantic verbal signals in Umbridge’s office when he had thought his Godfather was in danger. His own failure to communicate in some way with Potter on that occasion, had been partially responsible for what had followed. He should have gone looking for Potter and Granger himself, after they had gone off with Umbridge. At the very least, he should have let Potter know that he had understood. Then perhaps the boy would not have snuck off to London and Black might be alive today. Well, Black’s death was just one more thing that he had to add to his tally of unforgivable sins.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Severus concentrated on the road for the next several minutes, trying to banish his guilt. But his guilt had no plans to disappear any time soon. If he had been truly remorseful, he would not have continued to attack Potter at nearly every turn since collecting his broken body from Privet Drive, and all of this despite his many internal monologues where he told himself that the fifteen year old son of his old school nemesis was not as black as he had always painted him. But for Severus Snape, it seemed that bad habits were almost impossible to erase.

Despite Potter’s dire condition, and despite having finally seen first hand how the boy must have suffered for years at the hands of his uncle, Severus had still acted like a snarky bastard once Potter had regained consciousness, and once he had recovered from another debilitating bout of scar pain on top of everything else.

He had not planned to treat the boy so abominably after seeing him so badly mistreated by his family. He had planned on trying to moderate his behaviour around Potter, he really had, but he had failed abominably. But Severus had a ready excuse to hand; he had convinced himself that his total failure to act out his plan had been because he was suffering greatly from the frustration of being attracted to a woman whom he thought had no interest in him whatsoever.

But since he and Erin had reached out to each other, he had been trying to be more patient with Potter, partly because of his own guilt, but also because Erin was so very fond of the boy. And since their interaction on the ferry, Severus knew that he had banished some kind of mental barrier when it came to his dealings with Harry Potter. He had never before seen so clearly that this boy was a person in his own right, and not the shadow of his father.

It had been a long drive since Inverness and he and Erin had long since lapsed into a comfortable silence. Another quick glance showed the boy squeezing his eyes shut tightly and digging his fingertips into them firmly. Seconds later, he was kneading his forehead with rigid fingers and then digging them into Aidan’s scalp through the overlong brown hair, mussing it up almost as much as Harry’s own shorter raven locks.

Now the boy was yawning widely, and Severus knew it was not because he was tired—though he probably was—but because he was trying to draw in more oxygen to stave off the nausea that Severus was sure was steadily building. Potter was experiencing pain again, and it was making him exceedingly unwell.

“Is something wrong?” Severus’s eyes snapped back to the road for a split second before he glanced at Erin. With a restrained grimace, he indicated the boy in the back seat with a jerk of his head. Erin looked back. Harry was slumped low in the seat and his eyes were screwed tightly shut. He was breathing deeply and carefully through his nose to try and calm his roiling innards.

Erin frowned at Severus. “He’s sick again,” she whispered worriedly and Severus nodded.

“So it would seem.”

Erin glanced back at Harry again and then with a frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead, she looked distractedly out at the view. The beautiful countryside with the odd, picturesque village was giving way to the built up area surrounding a city of significant proportions.

“How much further are we going to travel today?” she asked.

Severus sighed, glancing again at Potter through the mirror. He was still breathing deeply, but Severus knew it would only be a matter of time before he vomited. He wondered what the Dark Lord was up to now. The boy seemed to have a remarkable tolerance for pain, but even he had his limits.

“We’re near Perth, and I had planned on travelling through to Glasgow…another seventy odd miles. But I don’t think that will be possible. The boy is obviously ill.” These words seemed to act as a catalyst.

Another glance in the mirror showed Harry suddenly jerking upright and fumbling for the window winder. Without conscious thought, Severus glanced in the side mirror and pulled onto the shoulder. He was out of the car almost at the same instant as he switched off the ignition and pulled the hand break on.

Even in his obvious distress, Harry seemed to realise that the car had stopped and he grabbed for the door handle, at the same time as Severus yanked the door open. Harry fell out onto the gravel on his hands and knees and vomited violently, only just missing Severus’s boots as he jumped back out of the way.

The violent retching went on for a long time after Harry’s stomach was empty; obviously his gut had practically turned itself inside out, considering the amount of bile that followed the semi digested gastric contents. Severus and Erin could do little but watch the small huddled form as powerful wave, after powerful wave of paroxysms gripped Harry. Erin was becoming frantic by the time Harry finally managed to cease retching long enough to groan through his immense distress.

Erin would have stooped to put her arms around the pitiful bundle, despite the foul puddle inches away from the faded knees of Harry’s jeans, but Severus got there first and he easily grasped Harry’s upper arm and pulled him upright and away from the mess. Harry stumbled against Severus, and with his free hand, he dug his fingertips into his forehead while Severus forcefully, but gently pushed him back to sit on the edge of the back seat of the car.

“I’m sorry!” breathed Harry on a pained exhalation. “God, it hurts!” he lowered his face into his hands, and kneaded his forehead even harder.

“You should have said something sooner, foolish boy,” said Severus, who had opened the boot and was rummaging within. Erin had retrieved a flask of water from inside the car, and pulling Harry’s hands away from his face, she tried to get him to drink. He turned his head to the side, his face screwed up with the pain.

“Just rinse you mouth out, Harry,” Erin said firmly. The young boy took the flask in a shaking hand and took a hasty mouthful, swilled it around and then spat it out.

“Now drink this,” said Severus and he passed Harry an opened phial of candy pink liquid. Harry looked at it sceptically through the blue eyes of his borrowed persona.

“What is it?” he asked in a raspy voice; his two bouts of severe vomiting that day had strained his throat.

“It’s a pain killer,” said Severus. He could hear the impatience in his own voice and when Erin looked pointedly at him, he modulated his tone when next he spoke. “Take it, Potter. It will help.”

Screwing up his face as a particularly vicious twinge threatened to cleave his head in two, Harry raised the phial to his lips and swallowed the contents. Severus took the empty phial.

“It will take a couple of minutes to take effect,” explained Severus, and he held out another slightly larger phial of mustard coloured solution. “This is an anti-emetic. You had it this morning,” and when Harry looked blankly at the glass container, Severus clucked his tongue. “It will stop the nausea.”

Harry didn’t need telling twice as that horrible feeling was starting to build again. He took the second potion and swallowed it quickly. He had forgotten that it was tasteless, but he was grateful for that fact…also the fact that it worked almost instantaneously. His stomach settled and with that particular discomfort removed, Harry realised that the pain in his head was also abating. But suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Get in the car, properly,” said Severus, and he nudged Harry’s knee. “We’ve still got a little way to go before we stop for the night.”

Harry groaned again, but this time with tiredness as he hauled Aidan’s short legs into the car. “How much further?” he asked through a yawn.

Severus didn’t answer, but shut the door.

“You’re not still going to drive to Glasgow, are you?” asked Erin. “He really needs a proper rest.”

Severus sighed his frustration. He wanted to get this journey over and done with sooner rather than later, and they were already delayed. “No,” he said in a tight voice. “But I have to find somewhere to stay in Perth. Dumbledore had booked a room in advance in a hotel in Glasgow, but we’ll have to find our own place now.”

Erin looked at Severus over the top of the car. “He can’t help being sick, Severus,” she said, shortly.

“Thank you, Erin, for pointing out the obvious,” drawled Severus in his best ‘pre-Erin’ snark. “Be that as it may, that does not stop this being a damnable nuisance, not least because I am solely responsible for Potter’s safety and I have to be that protector without the aid of magic.”

Erin’s eyes narrowed in irritation at his tone but she bit her tongue. There was nothing to be gained from standing at the side of the road trading barbs over the roof of the car. She did appreciate that Severus was worried and that he probably felt quite vulnerable not being able to use his wand, but that was just how it was. Descending into anger was not going to help.

The angry features of Paul Vale didn’t look as intimidating as Severus Snape’s flint-like gaze, thinned lips and tautened cheekbones would have done, but Erin got the general idea. She slammed the front passenger door shut.

“I think I had better sit in the back with Harry,” and so saying, she yanked open the back door and slid inside. If he thought he was the only one who could be in a snit, then he could think again.

Harry, who had been sitting with his eyes closed and his head back, pried his heavy lids open and gazed at Erin in surprise. ‘Whassa matter,” he slurred and then he jumped a little as Severus slammed his own door with much more vigour than it really required. Harry looked from the back of the grey-blonde head, to Erin’s set face.

“Go back to sleep, Harry,” said Erin, and she put her arm around him and pulled his head down onto her shoulder. Harry tensed; he could feel Snape’s eyes on him through the rear view mirror, and really, even that grey-blonde hair looked angry.

Even though Harry just wanted to succumb to sleep—whatever was in that pain relief potion certainly packed a wallop—he didn’t want to incur Snape’s everlasting wrath by being seen to be sleeping on his girlfriend’s shoulder. He tried to sit up, but Erin exerted more pressure and after sighing deeply and holding himself as taut as a bowstring for as long as his recalcitrant muscles would allow, Harry finally succumbed, allowing himself the pleasure of shutting his eyes and snuggling against her.

Erin gazed resolutely out the side window, the weight of Harry against her side was solid and warm. He was sound asleep; she could feel the slackness of his muscles and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. Did Severus not understand just how much that violent vomiting and pain took out of a person? She shook her head at her own stupid question…of course he knew. He was a healer!

Severus’s hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and every now and then, he glanced quickly in the mirror. He didn’t feel as put out as he thought he would to see Erin with Potter resting up against her…after all, this was twelve year old Aidan whose cheek was so close to her breast, and the boy was sound asleep; Severus could see that clearly. He was put out that Erin didn’t seem to appreciate the very real danger they were all in…and yes, he knew that circumstances dictated their actions, but that didn’t make his frustration any less valid.

The traffic was getting heavier, and Severus had to concentrate on the road more fully. He put Erin and her attitude to the back of his mind as they entered the bustling market city of Perth. It was a very attractive city; Severus noted this through his preoccupation with trying to find them some suitable accommodation. Erin remarked pointedly after he had driven past several bed and breakfast establishments.

“I do not wish us to be separated,” he explained as if to a child, setting Erin’s teeth on edge even more. “I wish to get a suite of some sort where we will all be under the same roof, as it were.”

Erin thought that was taking paranoia to the limit…after all, wouldn’t they be under the same roof in a B&B. But once again, she bit her tongue and allowed him to do what he had to do.

8888

Severus guided Harry onto one of two blue sofas in the sitting room of the suite he had found for them, in a hotel in the very centre of Perth. He swung his big hold-all onto the floor beside the sofa, as Erin lowered her bag onto the other end of the sofa.

Harry was having trouble keeping his eyes open and he leaned his head back and gazed, bleary eyed, at the abstract painting on the opposite wall with its streaks of electric blue, purple, pink and lime green. He put his head to the side to see if that perspective made the mass of colours any more meaningful. It didn’t.

Severus stalked over to the window and pulled the sheer curtain aside to peruse as much of the neighbourhood as he could see. Then ignoring both Erin and Harry, he stalked through to the bedroom with its en-suite bathroom, checking; Erin was sure, that they were high enough up and far enough away from the corner of the building that someone couldn’t easily shimmy up the down-pipe.

As soon as the unworthy thought flashed across her mind, Erin felt totally ashamed of herself. She flopped down onto the sofa next to Harry and leaned forward, supporting her head with her elbows on her knees and cupping her chin in one hand. She knew she was being totally unfair. Severus was just doing what he had taken on the responsibility to do; he was making sure he did everything in his power to keep Harry safe…herself too, she supposed. And she was indulging in a totally female, totally bitchy display because Severus had held himself aloof since they had had words earlier.

Severus had insisted that both she and Harry accompany him into the hotel lobby whilst he checked to see if they had a room. She had sat next to Harry in two side by side club chairs, whilst Severus Snape, wizard extraordinaire, outlined his requirements to the desk clerk, in his very best ‘VIP’, Muggle persona; a two bedroom suite, preferably on the third floor, but not a corner suite.

They had been able to meet all of the requirements, except for the two bedrooms. There was only the one bedroom with a queen sized bed and a sitting room in which one of the sofas folded down into a bed.

Severus re-entered the sitting room and threw the plastic key card onto the table. He still ignored his companions, striding across the room to look out the window, rubbing the back of his neck as he did so. Erin couldn’t stand to see the worry that was shadowing Paul Vale’s careworn features—she really wished she could see Severus at this point in time—so she shelved her resentment of his earlier biting sarcasm and moved to join him at the window.

“Sev, I’m sorry for being such a sulky bitch,” she said softly and tentatively, looking out of the window and taking in the view that seemed to have him so preoccupied. “I know you’re worried and you shouldn’t have to put up with me and my moods, on top of Harry’s problems.”

There was silence for more than a minute. Erin began to feel very vulnerable. She glanced nervously over her shoulder to find Harry had flopped into the corner of the sofa and his head was resting on the arm; he was sound asleep again. She turned back to the view, and taking her courage in hand, she slipped her hand into Severus’s much larger one. Ten, fifteen, twenty seconds elapsed before Severus’s fingers tightened around hers and Erin breathed again.

Severus looked down at her, a slight smirk playing about his lips and his eyebrow raised in a questioning arc. “Sev?” he said in a disbelieving drawl.

Erin bit her lip, but she couldn’t keep the grin at bay. “ Why not? Severus, as distinctive as it is, is quite a mouthful.”

“I have never found it so,” Severus returned, his voice a laconic drawl as he turned to face her and pull her into his arms.

“Really,” said Erin, rising on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around his neck. “And just exactly how often do you say your own name on any given day?”

Severus allowed himself the indulgence of what felt like a very long overdue kiss. And though it was obvious that Erin wanted more, much more, just as he did, he was too conscious of Potter’s proximity to totally succumb. There was nothing he would have enjoyed more than to drag Erin into the bedroom and make use of that comfortable looking bed—and one day, soon, he promised himself that was exactly what he would do—but not until he had Potter off his hands.

So slowly, reluctantly, Severus broke the kiss; her nearness was having the predicted physiological affect on him, and he had to put a little distance between them. But though Erin allowed him to release her lips, she wasn’t going to allow him to pull away; she snuggled closer so that they were practically adhered, and her head rested on his chest. Severus let out a helpless groan of longing. She was torturing him; there was no way she could be unaware of his discomfort.

He could not push her away; he did not want to, so, taking a deep breath, Severus performed a pas de deux that turned them in a half circle. Now he could see that Potter was asleep. But now that he thought about it, Severus was sure that if the boy was awake, he would have made himself scarce; there was no way that Potter would have continued to sit and ogle two adults making out. Severus could still detect a certain amount of sulkiness in the boy’s attitude over his and Erin’s relationship, but he was sure that Potter would have shown a clean set of heels to any couple who might decide to get too personal within his immediate orbit.

Having ascertained that Harry was indeed asleep, Severus shut his eyes as pleasure began to overload his senses…as Erin moved sensuously against him. Harry faded to the background as Severus tightened his arms about Erin and bent his head to nuzzle her hair…her dark hair!

That anomaly gave Severus pause, and he scrunched up some of the dark locks in a fisted hand and studied them before letting out a cynical snort that blew a few fine tendrils of hair not caught up in his hand. Erin leaned back to look up at him.

“What?” she asked, amused.

“You do realise, I suppose, that we are indulging in one of the greatest sins,” he drawled.

Erin’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back half a pace. Severus’s arms dropped to link loosely in the small of her back. “What are you talking about?”

“I, Paul Vale, am standing in the middle of this sitting room, in full view of my son, snogging my sister!”

Erin’s mouth dropped open and for a moment, she looked horrified. But then she let out a little giggle, and standing on tip toe, she linked her arms around her ‘brother’s’ neck again.

“Bring, it on, brother dear,” she whispered, before claiming his mouth again in a passionate kiss that was definitely not one that should be shared between siblings.

Severus knew that he had definitely lost his head, and his heart, to this woman when he found he could do nothing to resist her assault on his senses, even with the knowledge of there being a third person in the room. He had always sneered at public displays of affection; it mattered little that the public in this instance consisted of one sleeping teenage boy. The thought of kissing in public had always been abhorrent to him…until now apparently.

Severus forgot everything else as his hands snaked under Erin’s knitted cotton top and his fingers worked their way inside the top of her jeans to splay over the deliciously soft skin where her back ended and the seductive curve of her buttocks started. His thumbs caressed the little dip at the base of her spine, sending a pleasurable shiver through every one of Erin’s muscles, and nearly sending Severus away from the edge of his very shaky control.

Severus had pulled one hand free of her jeans and was inching his way upwards over the curve of her hip when a scream of apparent agony rent the air, causing Erin and Severus to jump apart in shock. They both stared at Harry for several, immobile seconds, watching him breathe heavily through clenched teeth and thrash around in his sleep.

Another scream filled the air and that one released Severus from his paralysis. He was across the room in four long strides and had taken Harry by the shoulders and was trying to shake him awake when Erin joined him.

“Potter! Wake up!” growled Severus, but Erin knew his tone was due to fear for Harry, not anger. Harry didn’t wake and when another scream emerged, Erin had to blink back tears and turn away as Severus had to manhandle Harry to prevent him from throwing himself off the couch.

Harry threw out a clenched fist and caught Severus hard on the outside edge of his right eyebrow. Severus let out a grunt of pain, and when Erin looked down at him—he was on his knees in front of the sofa—large droplets of blood were dripping down the side of his face towards the angle of his jaw.

Severus ignored his injury and the sounds of agony issuing from Harry’s throat, the major blood vessels of which were greatly distended because Harry had his teeth so tightly clenched together.

Severus took both of Harry’s upper arms and gave him a short, sharp, violent shake. There was no alteration in Harry’s state of consciousness and so, putting one hand against Harry’s chest, he drew back his hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. The harsh breathing ceased immediately and Aidan’s blue eyes snapped open, though they were far from focused.

Within seconds though, Harry screwed up his eyes and face in agony again, but he bit his lip to still the new scream that wanted to escape, drawing blood as a result of his suffering.

Severus felt confidant enough that Harry wouldn’t throw himself off the sofa—even though it was obvious that he was still in considerable pain—to remove his restraining hand from his chest. Keeping a close eye on Harry, Severus withdrew a neatly folded handkerchief from a pocket in his jeans and pressed it to the cut near his eyebrow.

Harry bent forwards with his face buried in his hands, another moan emerging from between his fingers.

“Potter…Harry, can you see something?” asked Severus in a tight voice.

The shock of hearing his given name on Snape’s lips stilled Harry's compulsive movements; he had started rocking backwards and forwards. Now he threw himself against the sofa back and kneaded his forehead with rigid fingertips in an action that Severus was becoming far too used to seeing.

“Not see…” panted Harry. “Feel. He…he’s celebrating something…something important, something massive.”

“The same thing that he was celebrating earlier?” asked Severus.

Harry shook his head. His body had lost some of its tension, and Severus knew that the crisis was nearing its end. Harry’s hands flopped down onto his lap. “That was something else…something else that made him ecstatic.”

Erin had seated herself on the arm of the sofa and was looking at Harry with distress and compassion. She swallowed back her tears and rubbed Harry’s shoulder before cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin at the side of his nose. Harry tensed for a moment and then leaned into the gentle touch. He was fully aware that Snape was there, but Harry wasn’t trying to play a game of one-upmanship, he just wanted to accept the comfort Erin offered.

“Oh, Harry, do you ever have a normal day?” she asked sadly, reaching up to brush the untidy brown fringe away from his forehead. Harry had several welts marring the pale skin. Without even thinking, Erin leaned forward and peppered several little kisses across the marks.

But when she straightened up, Harry saw Snape glaring at him. And when the formidable looking man suddenly leaned forward with his hand out, Harry, expecting to have his head knocked off, flinched sideways. However, there was no slap, nor punch, nor stranglehold about his throat, instead Snape placed his palm against Harry’s forehead and non-to-gently pushed the fringe back…just as Erin had done moments before.

Harry held his breath, but he didn’t fight to get away; instead, he watched the colour drain a little from his babysitter’s cheeks.

Severus couldn’t believe it. He was looking at the twelve year old whom he had dubbed, Aidan Vale…the brown hair, the blue eyes, the chubby cheeks and the soft, stubble free skin. But he was also looking at an inflamed, lightning bolt ridge of skin on the right side of a forehead that should have been blemish free.

Shock held Severus rigid for a few breathless seconds, and then Pual Vale's grey eyes snapped to Aidan’s blue ones. He stared intently, for all the world as if he was looking for something, and when he didn’t find it in Aidan’s eyes, his gaze roamed all over the twelve year old face.

“What?” cried Harry and Erin together. Severus straightened and rubbed a hand over his own forehead, wincing a little when he came in contact with the cut near his eyebrow; he swept the hand agitatedly back through his own unfamiliar hair.

“Your scar is visible,” said Severus, and though his voice was dispassionate, it was obvious that he was disconcerted.

Harry raised his hand to his scar and felt the tell-tale ridge. “So…so the potion is wearing off?” he said.

“I told you when I gave you the potion that it does not wear off. You need the antidote.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form the words, Severus cut in. “And no, Potter, I have not made a mistake. I am still transformed, and everything but your scar is as it was once you took the potion.

“Let me see,” said Harry and he rose and headed into the bedroom.

“Why is it such a problem, Sev?” asked Erin. “It can just be covered with his fringe.”

Severus stalked across to the window and back again, then he repeated the action before addressing Erin. “Apart from the fact that I don’t know why the scar has become visible, there is the fact that Potter’s scar is the most famous blemish in the wizarding world and all it would take would be one glance from a witch or wizard for them to know that they were really looking at Harry Potter. And if that witch or wizard was sympathetic to the Dark Lord’s cause…well, I don’t imagine I have to go on.”

Erin shook her head. “But what can we do?” she asked quietly. She watched Severus stalk up and down a few more times. Suddenly, he stopped at the window, and after several seconds of thought, he spun about and stalked into the bedroom and across to the bedside table upon which sat a phone. Harry, who was coming out of the bathroom, and Erin, who had followed Severus, listened as he ordered a copy of each of the afternoon’s newspapers.

When Severus put the phone down, it released both of them from their paralyses. Harry stepped further into the bedroom and Erin said with forced brightness, “How about cups of tea all around?”

When she had disappeared, Harry stepped closer to Severus. “Umm…sir, I think it’s fading again,” he said nervously.

Severus stared for a moment and then closed the space still separating them. Without asking, he reached out and pushed Aidan's fringe out of the way. Sure enough, the scar was definitely paler, and not as upraised as when Severus had seen it minutes ago. He ran his thumb over the mark and Harry just stood there and let Severus Snape touch his face without fear of it turning into an attack…physical or verbal.

“Maybe it only became visible because it hurt so much,” said Harry. Severus removed his hand and let the hair fall back into place. His eyes bore into Aidan’s blue ones.

“I would say that that is a distinct possibility, Potter,” he said with no hint of a sneer.

“Are you two coming?” called Erin, and they could here a kettle heating up in the other room.

“Coming,” called Severus, but he continued to stare at Harry, almost as if he had never seen him before…well, he wasn’t really seeing Harry now, was he?

“You’ve had a rough day, Potter,” Severus said, making him, he knew, the master of understatement.

Harry looked down at his trainers. All he could do was nod, and wonder where this new, seemingly sympathetic Snape had come from, or perhaps more specifically, where he had been hiding all these years. If he hadn’t known better, Harry would have thought that perhaps Polyjuice Potion altered a person’s personality as well as his or her appearance.

Feeling that he should perhaps thank his professor for all the help and care he had bestowed that day, Harry looked up again, his mouth open to speak. Those particular words remained unuttered though, as Harry saw Snape dabbing at the cut near his eyebrow, which had started to weep again.

“Did I do that?” he asked, horrified, his eyes wide, as he pointed at the wound. How had he missed that earlier? Apart from the wound itself, there was a trail of blood down the man’s cheek and neck, and a large stain on the collar of his shirt!

Severus shook his head and walked past Harry into the bathroom where he turned on the tap and grabbed a thick folded face washer and wet it.

“It is of no importance, Potter,” said Severus unconcernedly, as he scrubbed at the trail of blood. “You didn’t know what you were doing.” Harry watched, guilt a heavy weight in his chest, despite Snape’s words of absolution.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway,” muttered Harry, thrusting his hands into his jean’s pockets.

Severus finished his task, conscious of Potter standing there watching him and knowing that the boy was riddled with guilt. One thing that he had learned about Harry Potter over the last several weeks was that the boy had a penchant for heaping blame upon his own, already overburdened shoulders.

“If it will make you feel better, I got my own back seconds later.” Severus finished rinsing out the face washer and hanging it on the tap, before turning to face Harry. “Perhaps you do not remember the slap I had to administer to snap you back to reality.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed. Was he serious? He fingered his left cheek, which, now that he thought about it, did smart a little.

“Really?” he asked sceptically, because he didn’t remember any such slap, and surely he would have.

Snape smirked at him. “Really,” he confirmed before putting his hands on Harry’s shoulders, turning him and giving him a slight push towards the sitting room. “I will not deny that it gave me a certain satisfaction,” he added, but Harry could tell from the amusement in his voice that if indeed Snape had slapped him, then it had given him no satisfaction at all.

The world had indeed shifted on its axis. It seemed both of them had landed a blow upon the other, and neither of them had received any pleasure from the act at all. Ron would think he was mad, so Harry decided in that second that Ron wouldn’t find out about this particular incident.

8888

When they were sitting down drinking their tea, the newspapers arrived. Harry jumped to his feet to answer the knock.

“Potter!” barked Severus, seemingly back to form. “Sit down! I will get the door.”

Harry rolled his eyes as Severus got to his feet. Erin smiled, relieved that he seemed to be back to normal. He had had a very bad day. She was determined to ask Severus exactly what the pain in Harry’s scar was all about…and exactly what Harry’s garbled explanations meant. It was all very strange, but very shocking whilst it was going on. Harry’s agony was all too real, and it was frightening in its intensity. She knew that Severus had been as worried as she had been.

“I think I’ll have a shower, Harry piped up. “I feel yuck.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Erin. “I’ll get Severus to find your toothbrush and some more clean clothes. I don’t want to delve into that never-ending bag. I’d never find anything.”

When Harry was safely out of the room, Erin stood and walked across to Severus who was still standing near the door reading the front page of one of the newspapers; there were two others still folded and tucked under his arm. She could see by his grim face that something bad had happened and she stood next to him and looked at the paper.

A picture of a collapsed bridge took up most of the front page, and the inch high headlines proclaimed it to be the Brockdale Bridge. That was all Erin saw because Severus shoved the paper at her before taking a second out from under his arm and snapping it open. Once again, the front page was taken up with the collapsed bridge.

It only took Erin two minutes to read the whole of the report on the tragedy; the relatively new bridge had just buckled and collapsed, sending a dozen or so cars into the strongly flowing river below. At least twenty-five people were feared dead.

Erin looked up and met Severus’s eyes. He hadn’t bothered to read the last paper’s headline. “Were you expecting this?” she asked, waving the paper a little.

“I was expecting something,” agreed Severus grimly. “I just didn’t know what.”

Erin’s eyes widened. “He did this?” she whispered, appalled.

Severus closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m almost sure of it. The report said it happened at around ten-twenty this morning…” He opened his eyes again and pinned her with an intense look. “When Potter had his first episode of scar pain on the ferry.”

Erin’s mouth fell open. “You mean, Harry knew that this Voldemort character was doing this?”

“He was aware the Dark Lord was gleeful about something. This must have been it. The bridge was less than ten years old.”

“Oh, Sev…”

Severus nodded grimly. “But what I want to know is, if this caused this morning’s pain, what exactly has happened to cause the pain Potter experienced in the car, and this last episode that was so intense, it negated the strong pain killer and sedative I gave him?”

And why wasn’t I summoned to take part in any of the festivities,he thought uneasily. Severus had never wanted to talk to Albus quite as much as he did at this moment.

Harry had to move. His legs were beginning to cramp up and if he didn’t stretch them, he’d never be able to walk again. His back was also seizing up and if he didn’t at least turn onto it, he would look like a question mark in the morning. So, inch by careful inch, Harry began to straighten his legs, wincing with the pain and trying desperately not to disturb the covers.

Harry estimated that he had been lying in this position for at last four hours…four long, tense and sleepless hours. He winced again as the change in leg position made his lower back twinge even more. He pulled in his stomach and tried to arch his spine. It wasn’t enough and finally, with an involuntary groan, Harry succumbed to the need and with excruciating slowness, he began to roll onto his back.

“Potter, what in the hell are you doing?” The voice, husky with sleep and laced with irritation issued from the dark, directly to Harry’s left. The large mattress dipped slightly and with the need for caution past, Harry straightened his body out and turned onto his back with a breathy groan. The exquisite relief was muted by humiliation and irritation.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, his face burning in the dark. Harry was surprised that the flush didn’t light up the room. God, it was bad enough that he had been in the company of Severus Snape for what felt like a year without letup, but to actually be in the same bed as the man was cruel and unusual punishment. This trip to the Burrow would have to go down as one of the most uncomfortable journeys ever undertaken by anyone in the history of man, and the memories would have to remain locked away in his head where they would fester and eventually turn his brain to mush, because he wouldn’t be able to share the details with anyone. They were too mortifying.

“There is at least three feet of space available to you, idiot child,” said Snape impatiently. “Stop trying to balance on a knife’s edge and use some of it. Contrary to what you may think, I do not have some horrifying communicable disease.”

Harry lay there, feeling like a prize idiot. The man had a disconcerting habit of making everything Harry did seem ridiculous. But his words hadn’t take into account the fact that everyone of Harry’s instincts where Snape was concerned over the last five years, dictated that he stay as far away from him as he could get. But to actually be in the same bed as him…God, it made his head hurt just thinking about it.

The mattress dipped again and Harry tensed as Snape moved. But he relaxed almost at once when he realised that Snape was only getting out of the bed. He watched in the very dim light shining through the slight gap where the blackout curtains had not overlapped properly, as the man walked into the bathroom. The light flicked on and the door was pushed shut.

Harry sighed and turned his head to look at the indent in the pillow next to his own, then he turned back and stared, unblinking at the ceiling. With his new, perfect eyesight and the combined light from under the bathroom door and the gap in the curtains, he could make out the old fashioned circular plaster moulding around the light fixture.

He lay there, aching with tiredness, until his eyes started to water and he had to blink. The toilet flushed and then a tap was turned on. He turned his head and looked towards the bathroom again. When the door opened, Harry quickly transferred his gaze back to the ceiling. But not before he saw Snape in his long grey pyjama pants and a white crew-necked tee-shirt. Paul Vale was chunkier and a little shorter than Severus Snape, but that fact did not make Harry any happier about sharing a bed with the man.

It had been while he was watching a sitcom on TV that the discrepancy between the number of people in the hotel suite and the available beds had struck Harry. The program had shown three grown men trying to sleep together in a double bed when they had been forced to live in a one room bungalow for a weekend.

The circumstances here were slightly different, of course. There were three of them here, and one, admittedly large bed, but Harry knew they would not be trying to squeeze into the bed together. He had looked across at Erin, who was sitting at the table reading his copy of ‘Hogwarts: a History’, with a passion for the printed word that Harry had only ever seen Hermione display, and Snape was sitting across from her, trawling through the Muggle newspapers.

They had looked pretty cosy sitting there together and Harry had looked back at the television with a disgruntled frown marring his forehead. He supposed Snape and Erin would occupy the bed and he would take up residence on the sofa.

Harry was not one hundred percent sure just how far Snape and Erin had progressed in the bedroom stakes, but he did know that he wasn’t thrilled about them going at it only a few feet away from where he would be sleeping…or trying to sleep.

But he would have been quite happy for Snape and Erin to share the bed when the alternative was finally decided upon half an hour later. After Erin had taken a shower and donned a pair of lurid green pyjamas covered in multi-coloured parrots, she had entered the lounge room with an armful of bedding. Both wizards looked at her in surprise. Snape had finished with the newspapers and had folded them together. He had turned his chair around so that he could see the television, but he had really only been staring at it and not taking anything in. Harry had noticed him absently rubbing his left forearm.

“I think we’d better get some sleep, guys,” said Erin. She had looked at Snape. “I’m sure you’ll want to take off as early as possible.”

Snape had risen to his feet and indicated the blankets. “So, what are you doing?”

“You said there was a fold down bed. I’m sleeping in it.”

“No,” said Severus firmly. “You’ll sleep in the proper bed.”

Erin had dropped the blankets on the carpet next to the sofa. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I am not sleeping in a queen-sized bed while the two of you make do out here. You and Harry can sleep together in the bed.”

There had been a horrified silence for about five seconds while Harry and Severus had stared at Erin and then at each other. In their desire not to sleep in the same bed, they were united. Severus had argued vociferously that they could not possibly expect Erin to sleep on the sofa, and Harry had insisted that he didn’t mind sleeping in a chair and Professor Snape could have the sofa.

But Erin had ruled the day, or night, as it had been at that time. Looking at them both as if they were lunatics, she had begun to remove the cushions from the sofa in preparation to pulling out the bed. Severus had gone to help, still arguing the point. Harry was paralysed with horror. No way! No way in hell…

But apparently there had been a way because here he was, sleepless and uncomfortable and with Snape climbing back into the bed beside him. Harry stiffened up again; he even stopped breathing.

“For God’s sake, Potter if you do not relax and go to sleep, I will dose you with the Draught of Living Death and leave you that way until we reach Devon. This is not my idea of a fun night either, but I refuse to lie here contemplating my navel for the rest of the night just because I am sharing sleeping space with you.

“Now act like a mature teenager—and that is an oxymoron if ever there was one—and bloody well go to sleep. I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in your immature twelve year old—nor indeed, your slightly more mature sixteen year old—male body.” Harry just knew he was going to spontaneously combust. Or scream. Or both.

“I didn’t think that!” squeaked Harry, though he was not entirely sure that this thought had not passed fleetingly through his mind, if only because he couldn’t think of enough negative things about the man to satisfy his ire. Now that Snape had vocalised it though, he felt like a total and utter moron.

Snape just grunted and turned over on his side—facing away from Harry—and settled himself with an ease that Harry wished he could emulate.

8888

Severus lay as relaxed as he could manage, fully conscious of the boy lying as stiff as a board on the other side of the bed. He made his breathing deepen and relaxed even more, and finally, by minute degrees, he felt Potter succumb to his fatigue. After twenty minutes, he knew the boy was asleep.

Now Severus turned onto his back and stared up at the same plaster moulding that Harry had found so interesting earlier. But his thoughts were firmly fixed on the beautiful female in the other room, not the boy next to him. He had deliberately not thought about the sleeping arrangements when they had first entered the suite; he had stalked around being paranoid about the security until Erin had been the grown up and had breached the ill-feelings that had developed between them…compliments of Potter, of course. But, perhaps uncharacteristically, Severus was not inclined to blame the boy for something that he had had no control over.

Then the newspapers had arrived and for a while, when he had been horrified by the headlines and worried about why he had not been summoned, even thoughts of Erin had been relegated to the back burners.

Erin had ordered dinner because Severus had remained caught up in the papers, studying them minutely for some hint of any other incidents that may have been attributable to the Dark Lord. Then, before he knew it, Erin had reappeared after a shower in her all-encompassing parrot pyjamas and with an arm full of blankets and pillows.

The sleeping arrangements had suddenly loomed back into view as Erin had taken charge and directed the proceedings with no reference to him at all. Not that he had expected, even in the fleeting instant when he had earlier stalked into the bedroom and the queen-size bed had impinged on his consciousness, that he and Erin would end up in that bed together…not with Potter in such close proximity.

And with all of the problems with Potter that day, romance had not really been Severus’s main priority. He looked forward to the day when he could dump the boy with the Weasleys and he and Erin could be alone together for the first time since they had confessed their mutual attraction for each other. For the moment though, it seemed they were a threesome, a situation that he found tedious in the extreme but which Erin seemed to be taking in her stride because of her fondness for the boy.

This was something that Severus knew he would have to come to terms with if he wanted a long term relationship with Erin Hanson, because he knew that no matter how much she cared for him, she would never consider refusing to have anything more to do with Potter just because he asked her to do so. Erin was definitely not the sort of woman who would be dictated to by a man, no matter how much she cared for that man.

So, he knew he was the one who was going to have to adapt to circumstances. And though Severus’ feelings concerning Potter were in a state of flux at the present time, he knew he had a long way to go before he could look upon James Potter’s son as anything but a reflection of his father.

Severus blinked in the dark. But did that still hold true? Severus was just so used to thinking in the negative when it came to Harry Potter, it was not instinctual for him to take recent discoveries into account.

Harry was most definitely not his father. But who knew how James Potter would have turned out if he had not had parents who thought the sun rose and set in him; if, in fact he had not had that preconceived notion of his own superiority.

Severus now knew, despite his own pronouncements to the contrary for the last five years, that Harry was not a spoilt, conceited brat. Nor was he a bully. He stuck up for himself, certainly, but Draco Malfoy—who was to Potter, what James had been to him—was always the instigator of any confrontations between the two of them. One thing he had always known about Harry though, was that he had a dangerous overabundance of courage.

Potter’s life had been so far removed from James’ or even Lily’s, it was a miracle in itself that he had grown up without some serious psychological damage. And then to learn that his future was going to be even more horrific, if what Dumbledore believed came to pass, then could he, Severus try to deny the comfort that Harry seemed to receive from his association with Erin?

Severus turned his head to look at the dark outline of the sleeping boy next to him. For once, Potter wasn’t curled into a tight ball; he had fallen asleep flat on his back with his face turned slightly toward Severus. And even though he was looking at the young face of the Muggle boy, in his mind, Severus was seeing the vulnerable lines of Potter’s face. Sometimes the boy looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders…as indeed he did, if the rumours concerning the full content of the prophecy proved to be true. Severus was sure they were. And he had been, for a long time now, thankful that he had not heard every word of the prophecy on that fateful night when he had still been willingly in the employ of the Dark Lord.

Severus sighed and looked back up at the ceiling. To date, he had been unable to look at Potter and see his mother, even though the boy’s green eyes were exactly Lily’s; he had always tried to avoid looking directly into them. But now that he had a woman in his life who was so very attached to Potter (what was it with women that he loved being attached to Potters?), he wondered whether he would be able to leave his prejudices behind and forget his and Harry’s own volatile history and share an interest in the boy’s welfare beyond his promise to Dumbledore to help keep Lily’s boy safe.

Severus sighed again and shut his eyes. As sleep crept over him at last, the thought popped into his head that over the last several days, he had been concerned for Harry’s welfare because he disliked seeing him suffer as much as he did, and not just because Dumbledore had asked him to protect the boy. He had not bowed easily to the instinct, but he had bowed none-the-less.

8888

When Severus had awoken, Harry was still fast asleep, once again curled into the absurdly tight ball that he favoured and Severus had left him there while he showered and dressed.

Harry was sitting up, scratching his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Severus re-entered the bedroom. Severus stowed his night clothes and toiletries in the magically enlarged interior of the hold-all, telling Harry to shower quickly as he wanted to leave as soon as possible. He kept his voice as matter of fact as he could, not wanting a resurgence of last night’s embarrassment and Harry had hurried into the bathroom without a word.

When Severus entered the sitting room, Erin was pulling the blanket from the fold down bed. She looked up and smiled at Severus and his breath had caught at the sight of her currently dark, sleep-tousled hair, and the overlarge pyjamas that hid her slender form. Severus had transfigured Erin’s hair to make it darker and shorter, and he had changed the colour of her eyes, but he knew it was the woman whom he had fallen so hard for in front of him; so he saw the real Erin. He didn’t think he had ever seen anything as alluring in the whole of his life, and his body reacted all too predictably.

Erin thrust a corner of the blanket into his hands. “Good, you can make yourself useful and help me fold this,” she said with a grin.

Severus obliged, but as soon as they had bought the two edges of the blanket together, Severus gathered it to him, one hand walking over the other along the edge until he reached a giggling Erin and drew her into his arms.

“I’d much rather be doing this,” he said huskily, and lowered his head to claim her lips in a very needy, long overdue kiss.

“Hmm, what a splendid idea,” Erin whispered into his mouth, as she stood on the soft mound of blanket, wrapping her arms around Severus’s neck and demonstrating very thoroughly that she needed the kiss just as much as he did. She too did not mind that it was Paul Vale that she was kissing, because she knew everything that was important to her, was Severus.

“Where’s Harry?” Erin had the presence of mind to ask, breathless and in much need of precious oxygen.

“Shower,” answered Severus succinctly, and refortified, he claimed her lips again, probing the loosely closed seam with his tongue, demanding and gaining entrance.

They hungrily explored each other’s mouths, making themselves desperate for more, and after finally coming up for air again, Severus began exploring the delicate contours of her face; he kissed the corners of her mouth, her chin, along her jaw-line and then her neck. Erin let her head fall back on her neck to make access easier for those marauding lips and Severus took full advantage, covering every inch of skin down to the collar of her pyjama top. He nuzzled this aside to get to the inviting hollow at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Erin made a whimpering noise, almost a purr and held onto Severus for dear life.

Then he returned to her face, unwilling to ignore it for too long. He nibbled the lobe of first one ear, then the other before crossing the bony prominence of her cheek, bestowing tiny kisses. Erin’s eyes fluttered closed as Severus’s breath teased her long eyelashes and he took the opportunity to confer the same blessing on her closed eyelids.

More noises of pleasure issued from Erin’s throat and when Severus felt her knees grow weak, much as his were doing, he gathered her to him and lowered then both onto the sofa bed. Severus leant over her to continue administering kisses to her face and little love bites to her neck. When her pyjama top impeded further downward progress, Severus removed his hand from where it was now entangled in her hair and caressed her face and then her neck, finally running his fingers along the soft skin of her shoulder, pushing her top to the side as far as it would go.

It was not far enough. With a groan of longing that was also a petition for consent, Severus looked into Erin’s now brown eyes. Her acquiescence could not have been more obvious; she took his hand and guided it to the lime green button at the base of her throat. He needed no further invitation; he flicked that button open, and then the next.

Slowly, as if he was unwrapping a much anticipated present, Severus pushed the fabric aside to expose one small, but perfect breast. He had gazed at his prize for several heartbeats before rubbing the flushed peak with his thumb; he watched as it tautened and blossomed, like a rosebud slowly opening to the sun. He massaged it again with his thumb, and then he cupped his hand over the pert peak so that the nipple nestled against his palm. Breathless and wanting more, Erin grasped his head in her small hands and pulled him down so that he could take her in his mouth and lave the newly awakened bud with his tongue.

Neither knew how long they indulged themselves; it could have been two minutes, or it could have been ten. All Severus knew was that it was nowhere near long enough to sate his desire.

Erin’s top was fully open, both breasts exposed to her lover’s gaze and touch, and while his mouth pleasured one breast and then the other, Severus’s hand was intent on exploring further. It snaked under the waistband of Erin’s pyjama pants and his palm was flat against her belly, and his fingertips furrowing through the slightly damp curls at the apex of her thighs to reach the final, and as yet, unexplored goal when Severus was brought up short.

The shower that he was not even aware that he had been tuned into, was shut off. Potter would be out of the bathroom in a minute or so. Erin didn’t notice Severus’s sudden stillness; she was too busy with her own explorations, she had pulled his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and was rubbing her hands over the surprisingly smooth skin of his back and flanks, revelling in the play of muscles under his skin. She didn’t notice the slightly flabbier quality of Paul Vale’s flesh; she knew her man was as lean and hard as a greyhound.

With a groan of pure frustration, Severus lowered his head and bestowed a final kiss on Erin’s breastbone before levering himself to the side. Erin, who had still not realised the shower had stopped, gave a whimper and tried to pull Severus back. Severus grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand out from under his shirt.

“What are you doing?” she whispered desperately, trying to wrest her hand from Severus’s grip so that she could wrap her arm around his neck again.

“Potter,” husked Severus and he forced his muscles to obey his command to sit up. Erin groaned again and put her hand over her eyes.

Severus stood and tried to adjust his tight jeans, with little success. He leaned down and pulled Erin to her feet, unable to resist brushing one nipple with his thumb before drawing the edges of her top together.

“Quickly, he said, and though both of them still had hormones rampaging through their bloodstreams, they were putting on a good pretence of normality when Harry entered the room. Erin was stacking the bedding on an armchair and Severus was on the phone, ordering breakfast.

“Good morning, Harry,” said Erin, a little too brightly.

Severus, finished on the phone, and ignoring both Erin and Harry, he took himself off to the bathroom to put himself to rights. Harry watched him go with a crease between his eyebrows. Erin drew his attention away from his obvious speculation.

“So, did you sleep well?” she asked, fiddling around, straightening the room that didn’t really need straightening.

‘Err, yeah,” said Harry, unwilling to admit that he had lain awake in that big, queen size bed for nearly half the night because Severus Snape had been lying next to him. “I slept OK. Do you want me to put the bed back up?” he asked, leaning down to grasp the base bar.

“No,” said Erin. “They want it left down if it’s been used so that they can change the sheets.” She indicated a laminated list of instructions lying on the coffee table.

When Severus appeared again, his frustration had put him in a decidedly tetchy mood. Harry was his unwitting target. “Potter, you are a total slommick. Do you even realise that you can put the towels back on the rails when they have been used.”

“I hung it up again,” protested Harry, nettled, because he had hung the wet towel up.

“Well, you didn’t hang it with a great deal of proficiency, because it was on the floor.”

Erin rolled her eyes. She knew what was wrong with Severus, but Harry didn’t deserve to take the brunt of his ill-temper. She passed behind Severus as she made her way to the bathroom, giving him a surreptitious poke in the back as she walked past.

Severus took the hint and stalked across to the window where he opened the drape and stared out onto a dismal, misty day. Harry, still smarting, threw himself into a chair and dragged his copy of ‘Hogwarts: a History’—the one that Erin had been reading the night before—towards him. He flipped it open and rather than look at the angry man on the other side of the room, Harry stared at the page and pretended to read.

Harry was no dill. He knew what was going on. Erin had seemed far too casual when he had entered the sitting room and Snape was as far away from her as it was possible to be, the second sofa separating them. They had been trying to look cool, because no doubt they had been at it hammer and tongs two minutes beforehand. He was cramping their style, that was for sure. Harry wondered how long Snape would last before frustration sent him over the edge. He remembered his own frustration after his dealings with Cho. It had been a most uncomfortable experience and they had only ever kissed…once really because he didn’t count the peck she had given him after she had come crawling back when the article had come out in the Quibbler.

Breakfast arrived ten minutes later, and forty-five minutes after that, they were back in the car and heading southwest, out of the charming city of Perth…well, looking out on the mist-wreathed, grey parklands and buildings and the slow moving traffic, Harry thought that on a sunny day and in more stimulating company, Perth would be charming.

Even Erin had sunk into some kind of apathy. Breakfast had been eaten in silence with Snape and Erin avoiding each other’s eye assiduously. Harry sighed. It was going to be a thrilling journey.

And indeed it was just as Harry had envisioned, but at least he slept for a time, waking when Snape pulled into a café cum service station so that they could use the loo and get some drinks and plastic-tasting sandwiches. They ate on the move.

Erin had noticed something strange however and she commented on it as she held Severus’s drink while he pulled back into the traffic. “I’ve just realised, but you haven’t filled the tank once with petrol. I know it’s an economical car, but the fuel gauge hasn’t moved.”

“The headmaster charmed the tank to stay full so that we didn’t have to stop unnecessarily.”

Erin shook her head in amazement, and indeed, Harry was more than a little surprised. The things that Dumbledore could do went way beyond anything that was taught at Hogwarts; the man was definitely an amazingly powerful wizard. If the Muggles ever found out that Albus Dumbledore could produce never-ending petrol, they would pay him a fortune to bewitch their tanks.

Harry sighed and gazed out the window again at the countryside. Why couldn’t it be Dumbledore who finished off Voldemort? It was going to take an extraordinary wizard to do the deed. How ridiculous it was to think that he, mediocre Harry Potter, was going to be able to finish off the most evil wizard the world had ever seen.

He looked at the back of Snape’s head…or Paul Vale’s head, and wondered if the man knew about the prophecy. Harry doubted it. He was sure Snape would just laugh his head off every time he looked at Harry if he knew that he was slated to be the one to finish off Voldemort. He would split his sides.

God, everyone but Dumbledore would split their sides laughing. Harry could just imagine Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins’ glee if they knew. Harry shut his eyes and rubbed his face viciously with both hands. Hadn't he been the butt of enough jokes and rumours and innuendo since he had become part of the wizarding world?

“Are you in pain, Potter?” asked Severus, glancing in the rear view mirror. “Is your scar acting up?” Harry just shook his head and went back to staring out the side window.

“Potter, if you have pain, I need to…”

“I haven’t got pain! Alright!” yelled Harry. “Can’t I just be bored without you jumping all over me?”

Severus opened his mouth to deliver a stinging rebuttal but Erin reached across and squeezed his forearm. He bit the inside of his cheek and Erin turned back to face Harry.

“Harry, we don’t want you to go through what you did yesterday.”

Harry didn’t respond for a few seconds and when he did, all he said was, “I’m not in pain. I’ll let you know if it starts acting up.” He scratched at the place where his scar would have been. It was totally invisible again on the twelve year old face.

Harry hadn’t been totally honest. He wasn’t in pain…well, not what he classified as pain anyway. His scar was prickling, quite persistently actually, but he was so used to that, it was just part of who he was. He could tolerate that better than he could tolerate the dreams and the visions…well, there hadn't been that many of either of those just lately, thank God, not since he had been at the Haven anyway.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. Something bad had been going down yesterday, twice yesterday seemingly, but he had not been able to see what Voldemort and the Death Eaters were up to. He was just experiencing the bugger’s emotions…yesterday, he had been ecstatic. And now that he was a night’s sleep away from the nausea and the pain, Harry began to wonder what had gone down.

And then Harry thought about the significance of Snape trawling through the Muggle newspapers last night. He looked at the back of the man’s head again. “Was there anything in the papers last night that might have been the work of Voldemort?”

Severus took a deep breath. “Do not use the Dark Lord’s name, Potter.” Erin looked at him with raised eyebrows, but Severus ignored her. “I thought I made it plain to you during our—for want of a better word—lessons last term.”

“Right,” said Harry dismissively. “I’ll call him Tom then, shall I?”

Severus frowned and looked in the mirror at a very pugnacious looking Aidan. “Are you just being smart, Potter?”

“According to you, sir, I couldn’t be smart in an iron lung.”

“Don’t make me stop this car, Potter.”

“Severus,” said Erin, her tone placatory.

“Why would you call the Dark Lord, ‘Tom’?” bit out Severus again.

“Because it’s his name. He was named after his Muggle father: Tom Riddle.”

Severus was silent. He drove on for about a quarter of a mile before he spoke again. “How could you possibly know that? I have never heard any such thing.”

“Of course you haven’t,” said Harry. “He wouldn’t advertise the fact that he was a half-blood, would he? Not when his creed is that the only wizard worth knowing is a pure blood wizard.”

More silence. Severus was too shocked to speak straight away. But Potter sounded too sure of himself to be making this up. And why would he say such a thing anyway? There was nothing to be gained from such a statement, except his Professor’s wrath.

“It still eludes me how you could possibly know this,” Severus finally said again.

“Tom Riddle told me,” said Harry. “At least, his memory told me. Down in the Chamber of Secrets.”

“His memory…”

Harry took a deep breath and explained what had happened during his foray into the Chamber of Secrets. Erin had twisted around in her seat and stared, open-mouthed at Harry as he spoke of memories coming to life and then Fawkes extremely timely arrival, bringing with him Gryffindor’s sword, which had enabled him to kill the Basilisk after Fawkes had blinded the powerful serpent first.”

“How old were you?” asked Erin in shocked tones.

“Err, twelve.”

“Twelve, and breaking school rules again, were you not Potter?” said Severus nastily. In actual fact, he was reeling from these revelations. Albus had never told any of the staff what had happened that night, only that Ginny Weasley had been rescued and that there was no longer any danger.

Severus, of course, had known that Potter and Ron Weasley had been responsible for the happenings of that night because they had both received awards for services to the school, but Albus had been very closed mouth.

“If I hadn’t broken school rules, sir,” Harry was saying with a sneer, “Ginny Weasley would be dead; her body would never have been found, and Tom Riddle would have been back with us in a much younger body because he would have entirely bled Ginny’s soul from her and taken it for his own.”

Erin shook her head and slumped back in her seat. Just when she thought she may be getting used to the world of magic, she heard a tale like this one which was so amazing, it defied belief. Well, didn’t it all defy belief?

“How did you find this chamber Harry when no one else had been able to do so…not even Professor Dumbledore?”

“Erm…” Harry wished he hadn't started this conversation now. He didn’t want to tell Erin that he was even more of a freak than she probably already thought him because he could talk to snakes.

“Yes, Potter, how did you find the entrance?”

“I knew that a girl had been killed the last time that the Chamber had been opened fifty years before,” explained Harry reluctantly, omitting the whole episode where he was in possession of the diary after Ginny had thrown it away. “Ron and I found out she had died in a bathroom and we thought it might be Moaning Myrtle.

“We went and asked her; it was her who had been killed and she told us that she had seen a huge pair of yellow eyes moments before she died. She had seen the Basilisk near the hand basins in that girls’ bathroom on the second floor; the one that is always out of order, and I looked around there and found a tiny engraving of a snake on a tap.” Harry fell silent again and hoped Snape would be satisfied…but no.

“And?” he said impatiently.

“And I opened the entrance by speaking Parseltongue,” snapped Harry. “It was the only thing that would open it. That’s why Riddle had been the last to open it because he was the last person at the school who could speak Parseltongue. He was the last living descendent of Salazar Slytherin’s.”

“But his father was a Muggle?”

“Yes. But his mother was a witch and she was a descendent of Slytherin’s. Riddle had fashioned the name Lord Voldemort for himself while he was still at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to keep the name of his filthy Muggle father…his words. Pretentious berk!” Harry added the last in an undertone.

“What is Parseltongue?” asked Erin. When Harry didn’t answer, she turned around to look at him. Harry could feel his face heating up. “Harry?”

“Err…”

“Potter has a talent that is extremely rare even in the wizarding world, Erin,” explained Severus, and Harry was surprised to hear that there wasn’t a hint of derision in his voice. “He can talk to, and understand snakes. Parseltongue is the term used for a person who has this talent.”

Erin was staring at Severus, her expression incredulous. “Snakes have a language?”

“It would appear so,” said Severus.

“Can we change the subject?” said a very red-faced Harry. “Maybe you can answer my question now, Professor. Was there anything in the papers yesterday?” Harry knew that Snape had also ordered today’s newspapers with breakfast, but after a quick glance at the headlines, he had taken them and put them in his bag for later perusal, as he had wanted to get under way as quickly as possible.

“Nothing that you need be concerned about, Potter,” answered Severus a little too airily.

Harry seethed. “So if there was something in the Muggle papers—and there obviously was—then it would be in the Prophet as well. So everyone can see what he’s up to, but not me. Is that right?”

“Potter…”

“No, sir, I’m sorry, but this is crap. I’m the one who suffers when he does all of these things, but I can’t know what it is he’s actually done.”

“I do not see the point in you worrying unnecessarily. I have come to know that you take the responsibility for all of the Dark Lord’s actions upon yourself, Potter. There is nothing you can do.”

“But I’m worrying anyway! I know he’s done something horrific. I’m just going to stress out thinking up all sorts of terrible scenarios. And I will find out eventually, anyway.”

Erin reached across and laid her hand on Severus’s forearm again. “He’s right, Sev,” she said quietly, and Harry was grateful for her support.

Severus was silent for a while, obviously wrestling with himself. Harry had almost given up hope when the man spoke. “It would appear that he has caused a large suspension bridge to collapse,” said Severus. “At least, it seemed that the bridge collapsed about the time you were experiencing pain on the ferry.”

Severus could feel Harry’s stricken gaze boring twin holes in the back of his head. A glance in the mirror showed the boy had lost every vestige of colour from his face. Erin reached back and put her hand on Harry’s knee.

“This is not your fault, Harry,” she said softly.

“How many people were killed?” asked Harry, afraid of the answer, but having to know anyway.

Another pause before Severus, again reluctantly, said, “It appears about a dozen cars plummeted into the river below…last night they had estimated at least twenty people had died. Today, that has been amended to eighteen cars and thirty people dead.”

Harry leant back and shut his eyes. All those people…dead because he was not ready to go into battle with this animal. How many more had to die because he was incompetent and weak and scared…because he wasn’t ready to fulfil his destiny? And even if he ever became ready, he knew what the outcome of a one-on-one battle with Voldemort would be. He would die, and then the only difference to the atrocities that were being perpetrated now in the name of the purity of wizarding blood was that he, Harry would no longer be around to despair for those targeted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry did not utter another sound for the next several hours. Severus kept on stealing glances at the white, set face of the young boy through the mirror and Erin kept on turning around to check on him. They too remained silent most of the time and Erin switched on the radio and found a station that played soothing music. She turned it down low so that it was only just audible above the noise of the tyres on the road and the other traffic resolutely filing southwards towards London.

They had passed the border a couple of hours back and Severus knew that he needed a break from driving. Erin had offered to take the wheel several times, insisting that she was a perfectly competent driver. But Severus felt that this was his job, and besides, he knew that if he was just sitting in the passenger seat, he would become less than alert, and if anything untoward were to happen, he would not be conscious of it immediately.

Eventually, Severus pulled into the crowded parking area surrounding a large service station and restaurant. It was obviously very popular with lorry drivers as there were about half a dozen articulated lorries parked.

Harry had opened his eyes as the car slowed and turned. He blinked owlishly and sat up, staring vaguely through the windscreen. Severus saw when the reality that was Potter’s life impinged upon his consciousness again because the boy suddenly looked infinitely sad. Harry leaned back and closed his eyes again, not even opening them when Severus turned off the ignition.

Erin reached back and patted Harry’s knee. “Come on, Harry. We’re going to have a break and something to eat.”

Harry sat up again and looked around, almost as if the first perusal of the car park had not registered. “I’m not hungry,” he said in a croaky voice.

“You might feel differently when we get inside,” cajoled Erin and when Harry joined Severus and herself, she looped her arm through his.

“Have you got your wand handy, Potter?” asked Severus.

Harry’s hand automatically felt for his wand, even though he was always aware of it nestled against his skin. He nodded.

“Just stay alert. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry.

Severus nodded, once and then urged Harry and Erin to walk ahead of him. into the large, half-full restaurant. Harry seemed to come to life a little as he took in the full tables and the bustle and noise around him. Life went on, despite Voldemort.

Severus ushered them forward towards an area away from the large plate glass windows at the front of the restaurant. They slid into a booth; Severus insisted that Erin slide in first so that if anything happened, Harry would be able to get out quickly and have easier access to his wand. He whispered in Erin's ear before she slid onto the bench seat, that she was to dive under the table without hesitation if anything was to happen.

After another surreptitious look around, Severus relaxed a little and took a laminated menu that Erin passed across to him. The booth on the other side of the wooden divide to the side of them was empty but there were people in both booths to the front and rear.

Erin insisted that she be the one to go and get the food—there was no table service—and after ascertaining what they wanted, she went and stood at the end of the short queue waiting to be served.

Severus and Harry were silent for a short time, Harry watching the comings and goings of the throng and Severus keeping a close eye on Erin as well as the crowd. A couple of small children were running around the bank of booths they were seated in, and making a lot of noise. Severus didn’t know how long he would be able to put up with that, and wondered why the parents didn’t make them sit down, but Harry was happy to watch their high-spirited game of chasey.

“Aidan, I wish to talk about what we were discussing in the car,” said Severus. Harry had started at the use of his alter-ego’s name and he looked at his father.

“What about it?” said Harry warily.

Severus leaned forward with his forearms on the table. He spoke quietly. “I would like to go into it in much more detail at a later date,” he said.

Harry looked confused.

“I’d like to see the video when we get home,” said Severus, meaningfully.

Harry looked at him as if he was mad. Severus put his left elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand, tapping his forehead with his index and middle finger. He made the attempt to raise one eyebrow but it seemed that Paul Vale did not have that particular talent and both of them rose.

He tapped several more times and Harry finally got the message. He looked at Snape incredulously. As if there was anyway on God’s Earth that he would allow Snape to muck around with his memories again.

“I haven’t got the video,” Harry said bitterly, and then, before Severus could react, Harry said, “I'm going to the loo.” He jumped up and headed towards the toilets.

Severus’s lips thinned with irritation. Brat! He was about to follow Harry, but Erin, who had only been steps away carrying a laden tray when Harry erupted from the booth, hurried forward and prevented Severus from leaving.

“Let him go, Se…err…Paul. She slid her slim body onto the bench next to Severus, preventing his escape. “He’s only gone to the loo.”

Severus tried to breathe himself to calmness, accepting a cup of espresso from Erin, not at all happy about leaving the boy by himself. Potter was trouble waiting to happen. He looked in the direction Harry had gone; the toilets were off a hallway at the end of the section of the restaurant where the row of booths was situated.

“Stop being paranoid,” said Erin quietly. “He needs a little time alone.” She took a bite of her toasted ham and avocado focaccia. “Now eat your food.”

Severus looked grim, but he still picked up a half of his toasted egg and bacon sandwich and took a bite. He watched as a big, burly Muggle with a substantial beer gut passed their booth on the way to the toilets. Severus eyed him beadily, but dismissed him as being a wizard and a follower of the Dark Lord.

‘What happened?” asked Erin, between cooling blows over her cappuccino.

“Just Aidan being Aidan,” answered Severus. “I am profoundly glad that I only have one child. If ‘twere possible, I’d gladly give him away, but I doubt there is a market even for free of charge sulky, disobedient teenagers.

“That’s a bit harsh Paul,” Erin said in instinctive defence of Harry, and Severus’s scowl deepened. Erin then looked at Severus archly, and with a half smile on her lips, she said, “and don’t get too complacent, brother dear. You’re still young enough to become a father…again.”

Severus looked at his sister, surprised,and then shook his head emphatically. “I was not thrilled to be informed I would be embarking upon the difficult undertaking of paternity, in the first place, sister dear,” he countered. “A second time is definitely one time too many.”

Erin put the remains of her focaccia down with careful movements and wrapped her hands tightly around her cup. She avoided Severus’s probing gaze. “Really?” she said. “And does your new lady concur with your choice to not have more children? Perhaps she wants to be something more than an ostensible step-parent.”

Severus had gone very still. This was not a conversation that he had ever envisioned himself having, even in this oblique form. “It is not something my new lady and I have discussed, Fiona. It’s early days yet.”

Silence fell between them. Finally, Erin said, “I see.” Severus could tell she was far from happy. They carefully avoided each other’s eyes and used their drinks and food as a barrier against further conversation on this subject.

Severus was in shock. How had the conversation descended to this? He had not meant his comment to be an introduction to the topic of parenthood and he couldn’t believe that Erin had pushed it forward as she had.

Severus had never factored fatherhood into his life…particularly considering what his life was. And as far as he was concerned, anybody who would even think of bringing a child into a world where it appeared more and more likely that the Dark Lord was going to reign supreme needed to have a serious rethink. Not to mention all the terrible things that Muggles did to each other in the name of a higher entity.

Severus appreciated that Erin might not have fully gotten her head around the full scope of just what the Dark Lord and his forces were capable of. Not totally surprising, as it wasn’t even two weeks since she had become a part of the wizarding world…though she had certainly had a torrid introduction, what with her whole street being destroyed.

But she was an educated woman and she had lived in the violent Muggle world for twenty-eight years. That was as big a deterrent to having children as far as Severus could see, as the Dark Lord was.

Why would she desire to bring a child into today’s world?

Erin had not meant her initial flippant comment to turn into an interrogation of Severus’s thoughts on fatherhood. What had she been thinking? She had practically advertised her desire to one day bear his child, for God’s sake!

But though she knew she had not known Severus very long at all, she just knew that she wanted him to be the father of any children that she may one day have. Children had never been Erin’s number one priority. She had never wanted a baby with Grant and she thanked God that she had never become pregnant to him, despite his desire to have a son to carry on in his arrogant, egotistical footsteps. He had once laughingly told her that he only wanted sons; he had said girls were too much trouble, that they needed too much nurturing. He had made it sound as if he was joking, but Erin had known he was totally serious.

But now it looked as though she had really put Severus on his guard, and she hadn't meant to do that. He couldn’t have made it plainer if he had written it across his forehead that he did not want to be a father. She loved Severus, and she knew she would not want to have a baby with any other man. She wanted his child…one day…not tomorrow, and not in nine or ten months time…but one day, she would like to be the mother of Severus Snape’s child.

So where did his stance leave her? Certainly, it had not been an in-depth discussion…it was too early in their relationship for that. But this attitude was definitely an indicator to what the outcome of future discussions would be.

Erin sighed. She had Severus Snape. She loved him. She was not going to lose him by demanding that he allow her to have his child. Still, she knew that there would always be a small emptiness within her if she did not have his child. And she couldn’t but help feel a little upset over his seemingly rigid viewpoint.

Erin stood up abruptly. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said in as normal a voice as she could muster, and Severus watched her hurry off. He kneaded his forehead with his fingertips. He didn’t have the time, nor the inclination to think about this now. He didn’t want to think about it at all, and he wouldn’t. He had Erin, and he knew she was as happy as he was, so, he would just make sure that she was totally content with just the two of them. He might not be able to put this plan into action until they got rid of Potter…

Severus suddenly sat up straight. He went very still, like a dog that had just caught the scent of a rabbit. Potter…How long ago was it that Potter had gone to the loo? Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty? Too bloody long!

Severus slid out of the booth and strode towards the toilets. His hand was clasped tightly around the handle of his wand and he held it against his jean clad thigh, sure no one would notice, but at this point, that wasn’t a priority. He ran into Erin as he turned the corner to the toilets.

“What?” she said in a frightened voice, his fear instantaneously transferring to her.

“Potter!” he said as he pushed past her and thrust his way through the door into the men’s toilets. Erin followed automatically. There were three urinals against one tiled wall and three hand-basins against the opposite wall. Three cubicles stood open but it was obvious at a glance that the bathroom was empty.

“Shit!” ejaculated Severus. His eyes took in every inch of tile and porcelain, but there was nothing to see. He turned abruptly and ushered Erin back out of the bathroom. On the other side of the hallway, there were two doors, one to the female bathrooms and the other, a bathroom for the disabled. Severus saw that the lock registered engaged. A door with an exit sign over the lintel stood at the end of the hallway and Severus strode towards it and thrust it open. There was nothing to see outside but more concrete car park boasting several cars, and empty land beyond the boundaries of the service station and restaurant.

“Erin, go and see if the idiot boy has gone out to the car to wait for us. And if he has…” Erin didn’t wait to see what Severus would do if Harry had left the restaurant by himself; she hurried through the fire escape door and set off quickly around the side of the building.

Severus, despite his outward irritation, was officially in panic mode. What had he been thinking? He should have gone after Potter straight away. He was positive that there had been no wizards in the restaurant…that there had been no danger. He was positive he would have detected the presence of another magical person. But could he have been wrong? No…the bloody irritating child was most probably outside sulking, but he would go back into the restaurant and look around anyway, though he knew it was a pointless exercise.

But as he turned back inside and let the door swing shut slowly on its hydraulic mechanism, the narrowing shaft of light illuminated something that made Severus’s heart skip a beat. He rushed forward and bent to pick up the eleven inch tapered, slender wooden rod from where it lay on the floor, against the wall between the female and disabled bathroom doors.

Potter’s wand. Severus’s mouth went dry and for a moment, all his thought processes locked down. He stared down at the feathery carving that ran the length of the wand and then encircled the thicker, handle end. Then as he stared, his sluggish brain slowly kicked into gear. If Death Eaters had captured Harry Potter, they would not have left his wand behind. The Dark Lord was very interested in Potter’s wand. He wanted this wand and his henchmen had been given orders that if they captured Potter, they were to bring the wand to him. No one would be stupid enough to leave this wand behind.

It would appear as though the idiot child had been accosted by a Muggle. It would have to be a Muggle large enough and strong enough to overpower a twelve year old boy, so probably not a woman. It seemed as though the boy had tried to draw his wand, but had been overpowered and the wand had been dropped.

Severus pushed open the female bathroom door and strode in, uncaring as to whether he upset any delicate sensibilities. The space was as empty as the men’s bathroom had been. And then Severus remembered the locked door on the disabled toilet. No-one had exited since he had entered the hallway. He strode out of the ladies, and as he approached the next door, he distinctly heard movement behind it. He bashed on the door with the side of his clenched fist.

“Harry! Are you in there? In his panic, all thoughts of their alter-egos had flown out the window. There was no answer, but Severus heard a faint cry followed by scuffling, a dull thud and a grunt of what was definitely pain. That was all the invitation he needed. The locking mechanism for this disabled bathroom did not have the option of opening it from the outside without a key, which the management would have in their possession. And the doors of all the bathrooms were very thick and solid, perhaps even metal under their coats of paint.

Severus pointed his wand at the lock, uttered a determined Alohomora which had the lock spinning rapidly to ‘vacant’. He roughly shouldered the door open. The sight that met his eyes burned into his retinas, making him see everything through a haze of red. In those few seconds Severus Snape, Potions Master and trusted friend of Albus Dumbledore, became Severus Snape, vicious Death Eater.

Erin raced around the side of the red brick building. She stood at the corner for a few seconds, trying to get her bearings as her eyes scanned the car park for the metallic blue car. Where in the hell had Severus parked…there it is!

Careless of traffic, Erin stepped off the narrow upraised footpath onto the concrete surface of the car park and raced diagonally across it towards their car, threading her way through many other parked vehicles. She knew before she reached their car that Harry was not there. Severus had, of course, locked it but she could not see Harry standing anywhere nearby.

Erin, knowing it was hopeless, circled the vehicle in case Harry was sitting on the ground leaning against the bodywork. He was not. Panicking, she put one hand to her forehead and the other over her mouth, and with her breath coming fast, she turned this way and that, her face an anxious, fearful mask as she scanned the car park. Where is he? Then with a cry of frustration, she took off for the restaurant again. As she neared the building, she focused on the double glass doors, convinced that Severus and Harry would walk out before she reached them.

They didn’t, but a large crowd of other people did, squeezing through the doors so that Erin had to wait for them to move out of the way before she could get back inside. She wanted to scream at them to move their arses! But Erin wasn’t a person who could be rude to total strangers who were doing her no harm, so she refrained from screaming, instead she shouldered her way through the lingerers, apologising as she went.

Once back inside she rushed around to the side wing where the booth they had been sitting in was situated. It was still empty; their leftover food and dishes still littered the tabletop. Neither Severus nor Harry were anywhere to be seen, so without pause, she rushed back towards the toilets. If Severus was still back here, it must mean he had found Harry. She estimated that at least four minutes had passed since Severus had sent her off.

As she raced around the corner, she heard Severus’s deep, highly irate voice say an angry, “Stupefy!”

Shock halted her forward momentum for the merest breath of time. She had seen that spell used against Harry before; she knew it had been used against herself. Surely Severus wasn’t cursing Harry! Her rubber-soled feet made little noise on the terracotta floor as she flew to the open doorway through which light was spilling into the dim hall.

The scene inside the toilet made her heart skip a beat and she cried out involuntarily when a frighteningly livid Paul Vale raised Severus Snape’s wand so that it was pointed directly into her face.

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The noise of the lock turning had not alerted the paunchy Muggle to an intruder; but the door flying open so hard that it ricocheted off the tiled wall could not be ignored. He was frozen in an attitude of shock, and when the powerful Impediment Jinx hit him full in the face, he was blasted backwards away from his prey, and crashed into the wall where his head hit with a dull thunk. He slipped down the wall and ended up sitting in an obese heap on the floor, his head lolling to the side, his navy blue work shirt half untucked, his belt buckle and fly undone and his trousers barely covering his privates. Severus recognised him as the Muggle he had seen walking to the toilets not long after Harry had left their booth.

With fury still contorting his features, Severus strode forward, just in time to prevent a dazed Harry who was draped face down over the closed toilet lid, from slipping from his precarious position onto the floor next to his insensible assailant. Severus viciously kicked the man’s legs out of the way, causing him to slump sideways onto the floor, his head near the base of the toilet. Severus slipped his arms beneath Harry’s, supporting his groggy weight and feeling a powerful emotion well up inside him as he noted the contusion and the blood on the side of his head behind his ear, and the swelling that was already turning purple, under his left eye.

On his knees now, Severus manoeuvred Harry so that he was leaning into his shoulder, freeing his wand hand to allow him to cast another powerful spell, this one strong enough to warm a portion of the cold tile floor. So much for not using magic! Not only had he already cast three spells, one of them had been a jinx. If the ministry was paying attention, and there were no other witches or wizards in this part of England, someone loyal to the Dark Lord could very likely pick up on the anomaly. He needed to get Harry, Erin and himself out of here…fast!

Mercifully, Severus had arrived in time; although Harry was distinctly dishevelled, and his jeans undone, they were, thankfully, still in place. Grinding his teeth in an effort to contain his rage over what could have happened, Severus lowered Harry gently to the floor before whipping off his jumper and transfiguring it into a pillow which he place carefully under Harry’s head. Then with gentle movements—and his healer’s skill—he began probing around the swollen and bruised cheekbone with his thumbs to check for a fracture. But Harry was not as out of it as Severus had first thought. After exerting the lightest pressure, the boy hissed with pain and suddenly, his arms were flailing violently as he tried to fend Severus off. The gentle examination was all it had taken to bring Harry back to partial awareness. All his self-protective instincts came into play as he cried out in fear and thrashed so violently, Severus was worried he was going to hurt himself.

Regretfully, because he really did need to check Harry out before he moved him any further, Severus drew his wand, and holding Harry’s hands together to avoid being smacked in the face as he had been yesterday evening, he cast a light Somulus Charm. Harry’s movements instantly became slower and more sluggish, until, with a sigh, his arms became too heavy to hold up. Severus lowered them onto Harry’s chest and then performed a quick examination.

Able to work now without having to fend off flailing limbs, Severus used his wand to siphon off the congealing blood from the injury behind Harry’s ear…a very nasty contusion with a deep cut at the centre of the swelling. Separating the hair as much as possible, Severus pointed his wand at the cut, and muttering an incantation he held the point of the wand steady and drew it along the length of the wound, drawing the skin back together, and leaving a thin line of delicate pink, new scar tissue. He had a salve in his bag which would lessen the swelling and help with the pain, but that would have to wait.

Changing positions slightly, Severus leaned over Harry again to examine his cheekbone, but he had barely put his hands on Harry’s face when a muffled squeak came from the still open door. Severus spun around on one knee, his wand in his hand and pointed at a middle-aged woman who was standing in the aperture with her eyes bugging out of her head and her hands pressed to her mouth. Her bulging eyes darted from Severus, leaning over a clearly unconscious Harry, to the crumpled figure of the large man behind the pair of them. As her interpretation of the visual evidence coalesced in her mind, she dropped her hands and opened her mouth to scream bloody murder.

Severus cursed his own stupidity for not having locked the door, but it was too late for personal recriminations. He growled, “Stupefy!” with barely restrained fury, pulling his wand sharply back towards him so that the woman fell forwards into the room as she lost consciousness. Without pause Severus followed up with a non-verbal, Arresto Momentum! so that when she hit the floor, there was barely a noise…she too was slumped in a quiet heap.

Severus moved forward to turn the woman over, but then another noise had him snapping his wand back up and pointing it at the door again, his face newly contorted with rage because he had still not locked the door and now there was a second unwanted intrusion. Thankfully, his reflexes were not affected by everything that he had discovered and done since bursting into this bathroom because he managed to cut off the second curse and snap his wand arm down before he could curse Erin.

Erin stepped over the body of the unconscious Muggle. In her shocked dismay she ignored the woman, concerned only for Harry. She dropped to her knees by his side and took one limp hand in both of hers.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” she asked frantically, glancing up at Severus and then back down at the pale face with its still swollen and discoloured cheek.

“He happened!” gritted Severus, after locking the door and turning the woman over onto her side. He flicked his wand at the Harry’s assailant, the movement and non-verbal jinx making the man’s body rise off the floor about a foot before allowing it to crash back down.

Erin’s eyes took in the man’s unshaven face, huge, hairy forearms exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, and obese belly straining the buttons on the shirt and hanging over the two sides of his unfastened trousers where they sat very low on his hips. Erin’s eyes widened as comprehension speared her through the heart. She looked back down at Harry, moving her eyes over the young boy’s own clothing; Severus had been too busy attending to Harry's injuries to worry overly much about the state of his clothes.

Erin’s face was stricken when she looked at Severus who had knelt down again to try, for the third time to examine Harry’s cheek. “Oh, God! Severus, please…please tell me that…that that monster didn’t…he hasn’t…”

“He didn’t get that far!” said Severus in a deadly voice. But another minute and I would have burst in on a very different scene.”

Erin could see how angry Severus was; it was visible in every taut line of his body, except for those gentle hands still busy with the task of determining the severity of Harry’s facial injury. His voice was no longer the seductive, dark velvet drawl that usually sent shivers down her spine, and was the first thing that had attracted her to her Black Prince; now, it sent shivers down her spine for a very different reason. Severus seemed to be holding in the rage that he was feeling by keeping his teeth clamped together, almost as if he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, the vehemence of his emotions towards Harry’s assailant would come spewing out in more than just a verbal tirade.

Erin could understand the anger, but she was frightened of what Severus might decide to do to the Muggle man; after all, he had been working for a vicious, evil monster for a long time now, and even though he no longer believed in Voldemort’s values, nor his methods, memories of old behaviours would always be there, waiting for the right catalyst to set them off. Was the near rape of a boy that Severus had known for a long time, and whom he had recently—despite his assurances to the contrary—come to feel a certain regard for, enough of a catalyst to make him murder again?

Erin shivered. Though the thought of the man and what he had nearly done to Harry made her want to kick him where it hurt, and scratch his eyes out, she would do neither of those things because she was not a violent person. But would Severus be able to hold himself back...he had so far it seemed, but would his restraint last?

“I think there is a hairline fracture of his zygomatic arch, but I have not the wherewithal to treat it here. We have to leave as quickly as possible.” Severus stood up purposefully and stepped away from Harry. Even though Paul Vale’s eyes were grey and not the onyx pools that Severus’s were, they had darkened in his anger and become chips of obsidian. Erin, her heart in her throat, also stood and when Severus, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, stepped towards the fat Muggle, still insensible at the base of the wall, Erin stepped in front of him.

Severus made to push her out of the way, his eyes focused on his quarry, but Erin grabbed his arm. “No, Severus! You said we had to go!”

Severus tried to wrest his arm away but Erin, really frightened now but also really determined, lunged forward and snatched Severus’s wand from his hand. It was the last thing Severus had been expecting, and he looked at her, momentarily stunned.

“We need to get out of here, you said it yourself. So lets go! Please!”

“Give it back,” said Severus in an ominous voice.

“No! Severus…”

“Accio wand!” Severus had drawn Harry’s wand from where he had stashed it in his back pocket and pointed it at his own wand. Erin cried out as the wand flew from her shaking fingers and slapped into Severus’s hand. Then he pushed her—with admiral restraint—to the side.

“Severus, please don’t kill him!” whispered Erin, her voice catching on a sob.”

Severus stopped in his tracks. He stood rigid for a moment and then turned back to face his girlfriend; Paul Vale’s face was as stiff and still as Severus’s own could be. Then without a word, he faced the unconscious man again and took another step before leaning down, grasping a handful of collar and hauling him upright.

Erin stood with silent tears coursing down her cheeks. He wouldn’t…he just couldn’t. He wasn’t a Death Eater any more. He wouldn’t kill a man, even a foul, depraved man, in cold blood. Erin couldn’t think of a punishment bad enough for a person who did the kinds of things to children that this person obviously did, but she did know that she did not want Severus to become a murderer because of him.

“I have no intention of killing him, Erin, but he may very well wish he was dead,” Severus hissed. He pointed his wand at the man’s face. Erin could not see what he was doing, and if he was incanting a spell, he was doing it silently. All she could do was pray and wring her hands together. It seemed to take an age before Severus took a step back, but even then Erin could not see what he had been doing as he was standing directly in front of his quarry.

Severus pointed his wand again and this time said a clench-jawed, “Enervate.” Immediately, the man groaned and opened his eyes, blinking owlishly in the harsh, white light of the bathroom. Severus kicked him very hard in the thigh and the man cried out in pain, grabbing the place where Severus’s boot had connected. He immediately began to blubber pathetically, increasing the look of disdain on the face of Severus’s alter-ego.

“Get up!” Erin shivered at the cold menace with which the two words were uttered.

Small, dull, muddy-brown eyes crept up over jean-clad legs and a torso covered by a black polo shirt, before coming to rest on the frightening visage of a very angry, fully grown man. Not his preferred sized male at all, and he began to tremble visibly, his sobs quickly increasing in volume and pathos. Severus was totally unmoved.

“I said get up, you depraved bastard!” The boot connected with the same spot on the same thigh again. A howl of pain and fear rang out this time, but the obese creature began to lumber to his feet, his abused leg quivering when he tried to put his considerable weight on it. He had forgotten that his trousers were in such a precarious position and when they began to slip down his flanks, he made a wild grab for them. All the time, pathetic little whimpers were coming from his mouth and mucous and tears adorned his face in an unsavoury sticky mask. He stood there, gripping the opened edges of his waistband and looking truly pathetic.

Erin had cringed each time Severus’s foot had connected with the man’s thigh; she could only imagine how it would look in a few hours time because Severus had held nothing back when he had struck his victim with the toe of his boot. He might have been kicking a football.

She was still very nervous about what Severus had done and what he may still be going to do. She knew that the toe of his boot applied to a tender area of the man’s anatomy would not be the end of it. But when the Muggle stood up, his sobs and cries for mercy becoming very loud indeed, Erin now saw what Severus had been doing as he pointed his wand at the man’s face. She gasped.

The man was now blubbering almost incoherent words. Erin managed to make them out, however, and her disgust for this creature and every man with his inclinations increased.

“Please, please don’t hurt me anymore. I didn’t mean it…I can’t help it.” He indicated Harry with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry I hurt your son, but I’m ill…it’s a sickness.”

He looked at Severus through brimming eyes, and when he saw no sympathy there, he looked past him to Erin. “Please…I don’t want to be like this…I wish I could stop.” He put his hands together in supplication, and then he whispered. “I try to be gentle.” Erin turned away in disgust. She thought she might vomit.

Severus had had enough. He grabbed a handful of the man’s work shirt and pulled him close to his face. The man was a couple of inches taller than Paul Vale, but Severus’s fury seemed to have made him increase in stature.

“You’re only sorry that you were caught before you could do more damage, you animal,” said Severus in a venomous hiss. “And perhaps you could enlighten me as to how you can be gentle when you hit a child over the head and knock him out?” Severus put his hand around the back of the man’s neck and roughly turned his head towards a prostrate Harry, putting pressure on the sides of his neck with steel reinforced fingers and thumb.

“And just how, do you invade a small child’s body with your adult equipment and be gentle?”

The man’s sobs escalated even more and Erin was worried that someone outside would hear. Severus, however did not seem to be concerned about that and Erin supposed that he had cast a spell to stop the outside world being aware of what was going on in this bathroom.

Severus seemed to change tack in the blink of an eye. He put a solicitous arm around the grid-iron player shoulders and spoke in a mock caring voice. “Well, sir, this is your lucky day. I have decided to help you with your little problem. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you walk out of here when your sickness could overtake you at any time. You will no longer be able to be gentle with any more children.” And tightening his arm so that it became a painful yoke, he turned the man around amidst howls of distress and directed his gaze at the mirror above the hand basin.

The swimming muddy eyes saw the black markings on his forehead, but it didn’t seem to register for a moment what it was. He scrubbed the tears from his eyes and leaned in closer to the mirror, his blubbering tapering of as he stared. It took him a few seconds to decipher what the word was because it was written backwards in the mirror, but finally the penny dropped.

It would have been comical if the situation had not been so tragic. The man’s eyes widened and then the wide-lipped mouth dropped open in appalled shock. A choked cry of horror eventually forced its way past paralysed vocal cords, as the man stared and stared, at the new, blackened, ten letter word emblazoned across his broad forehead.

P-A-E-D-O-P-H-I-L-E!

The Muggle moved his face even closer to the mirror, a frantic hand pushing the remnants of his stringy grey hair off his forehead so that he could be entirely sure that he was seeing what he was seeing.

He let out a high pitched squeak that sounded totally incongruous issuing from the throat of such a large man. “Jesus…what did you…how did you…you bastard!”

“So glad you like it,” said Severus, and he watched with a malicious narrow-eyed grin as the paedophile ran water onto his hand and scrubbed frantically at the word that labelled him for what he was. Of course, it did no good at all and the man let out a bellow of rage.

“You don’t have to thank me,” said Severus. “I’m happy to help you with your little problem.” He put a finger up to his mouth and tapped it in a mock thoughtful gesture before continuing as if a thought had just occurred to him.

“There is one more thing that I could do to make absolutely certain that you never rape another child.” The sentence had started off lightly, but by the end, Severus’s voice had dropped several octaves and emerged in a truly frightening hiss. Before the Muggle could react, Severus had spun him around and with a sharp jerk, he pulled his trousers and underpants down together to his knees, pointed his wand at the man’s nether regions and incanted, “Reducto!” so that it sounded like an epithet instead of a spell.

Erin quickly turned away, but she could not block out the man’s squawk of horror and fear as his genitals shrank to the size of those of a five year old boy. Severus watched dispassionately as the obese Muggle cupped his tingling flesh in his hands and felt them shrink against his palms.

“Oh, my God, what did you do? You bastard! “Fix it…fix it now!” and he jiggled his child-sized package and let out another howl.

“You said it was a sickness,” said Severus. “Well, I have just set you well on the path to a total cure.”

8888

Ten minutes later, Severus was speeding along the motorway with a still groggy Harry sitting in the back, and a subdued Erin sitting with her arm around him, much as she had sat yesterday after Harry had vomited by the side of the highway.

After performing his coup de grace, Severus had wasted no more time…he had modified the memory of the woman first and made her continue her interrupted journey to the ladies. He had implanted in her mind the necessity to stay there for the next ten minutes. Then he had modified the memory of Harry’s assailant and sent him to the men’s toilet with the same instructions. Only then had he woken Harry from his sleep.

Harry had not seen his attacker; he did not even realise he had been attacked. Even when he had come to in the bathroom where Severus had found him, he did not know what was going on. Harry had sustained a concussion and he kept on asking Erin what had happened…why his face and his head were so sore?

Severus and Erin had decided to ensure that Harry remained ignorant of the facts. To this end, Severus told him he had slipped in the bathroom, hit his cheek on the rim of a hand basin as he went down and then he had smashed his head on the floor. Severus then told Harry he had found him there, unconscious. He told Harry that it was common for people who had suffered a head injury not to remember what had happened immediately before the accident, a fact for which Severus and Erin were thankful.

Severus was not entirely sure when it had happened, but suddenly it seemed that every instinct now led him to want to openly protect Harry Potter with all that he was capable of. He could only put it down to the softening influence of Erin.

No, that was not entirely true. For the last three weeks, Severus had been around Harry more than he ever was during the school year. Then, they had long respites between exposures and they were both always primed for battle when they did meet…and he, Severus knew that he had never even tried to look beneath the hated façade that was so very much like his father’s. His attitude had been implacable.

But finding the boy in such dire condition after his uncle had finished with him, added to the terrible events that had followed, had thrown him together with the boy much more than he could ever have envisioned. He had always been on the lookout before, to try to keep the boy safe, but he had not really cared. He had just been determined to see to his appointed task for Dumbledore’s sake, not for Harry’s.

Of course, when these recent events had forced him into closer contact with the boy, he had voiced objections for forms sake, but he had not pushed the issue to the point where Dumbledore would have had to find someone else…and he could well have done. He could have made life very difficult. Of course, the presence of the very attractive woman who had been thrown into the mix, and whom he had found himself drawn to from the beginning, had certainly made his forced guardianship of Harry much more easy to tolerate.

Severus looked at the slumbering boy through the rear-view mirror and was struck anew at the combination of bad luck and good luck that seemed to comprise his life. The bad luck was his having been targeted in the first place by the Dark Lord and then, after being orphaned, being placed with a family who so patently did not want him. The bad luck continued with his being a continuing target for the remaining Death Eaters and then his being the vital ingredient necessary for the resurrection of the Dark Lord.

The good luck of course was the fact of his mother loving him enough to lay down her own life for his, as well as the fact of his having survived all of the dangerous episodes since, that he had found himself embroiled in, when any other child would most likely have died. Severus did not know of another person who seemed to attract trouble like Harry Potter did. And most of that trouble stemmed back to that Halloween night that would forever be etched into his, Severus’s memory, no matter how deeply he tried to lock it away in the furtherest recesses of his mind.

After the reincarnation of the Dark Lord a little over a year ago, Severus, with Albus’s council and his own observations, had come to know of the ever increasingly intimate connection between Harry and the Dark Lord; during the torturous Occlumency lessons he had seen enough proof of it. Harry’s vision just before Christmas that had precipitated the need for him to learn Occlumency had truly shocked Severus, though Albus had told him to expect something monumental sooner or later.

Arthur Weasley would surely have died if the boy had not entered so far into the Dark Lord’s mind that night. And the images that he himself had seen when he had invaded the boy’s mind had worried him as much as they had shocked him: Harry’s visions of the corridor leading to the department of Mysteries and the eventual extension of those visions when he had finally found himself in the Hall of Prophecy itself, when he could have had no idea of the department’s existence if not for the Dark Lord’s thoughts lingering upon it. There had been the Dark Lord’s meeting with Rookwood, and, as Severus had found out later when he was next summoned, the punishment of Avery for wrong information concerning the removal of the prophecy. And worst of all, there had been the false vision of the capture and torture of Black that had precipitated the boy and his cohorts in crime’s expedition to the Ministry and the subsequent happenings there.

And most recently, there had been Harry’s painful reaction to the euphoria experienced by the Dark Lord when he and his minions had brought down the Brockdale Bridge, and whatever had happened yesterday evening that had caused the boy another bout of nearly unendurable agony. Whatever that had been, it had not made headline news and Severus had not had time to peruse the papers more thoroughly as yet. One way or another, he would fine out what that episode of scar pain had been about.

Severus might have decided that he cared enough to openly protect Harry now, but even back then, during the school year, though well hidden behind his hateful, disdainful façade, Severus had been worried about the things that the child was seeing. He had not actually seen the pain Harry suffered during these episodes until after he had collected him from his aunt and uncles two weeks ago, though he had seen that after each Occlumency lesson, Harry had left his office looking very pale and sickly and he had usually looked little better at breakfast the next morning. And yet, he had still acted like an arse whenever he and Harry were together.

Severus sighed and looked back at his companions again. Harry was finally sleeping against Erin’s shoulder and she had a far away look about her as she watched the passing scenery.

With everything that Harry had been through in his life, Severus was determined not to lumber him with the knowledge of what had really happened today; it would have been the ultimate degradation. And though Harry had escaped actually being sexually abused, knowing how close he had come would be traumatic enough. Severus felt that being targeted by a sexual predator would somehow be more shocking to the boy than knowing that he was the prime target of a crazed megalomaniac who wanted him dead because he was afraid of what the boy may be able to do because of a prophecy made before Harry was even born.

Severus knew that Harry was strong…far stronger than a sixteen year old boy had a right to be. But he had had to grow up strong. Severus could see now that Harry was the person he was, because he had grown up in an abusive household. He had had to keep himself strong because he had not grown up with affection, but abuse. He had never had an opportunity to develop an ego because it would have been beaten out of him straight away.

And then there had been the shock of discovering that far from being ‘nothing’ he was, in fact, someone famous in the new world in which he found himself. He had discovered that the unusual things that he could do were because he was a wizard, and not the freak that he had always thought himself to be. He had found himself amongst others of his kind and for the first time in his life, he had begun to have a sense of self-worth. But instead of developing an ego, he had tried to distance himself from his fame.

Despite his own abominable behaviour where he had baited the boy about his fame and his ego, Severus had never once actually seen him blowing his own trumpet as others would have done in his place. Albus had at least been right in his desire to keep Harry away from the knowledge of who and what he was. It had worked. Pity he had never seen it like that until just recently. His hatred of James Potter had always dictated his treatment of the boy. Every time he looked into the green eyes of the girl he had once loved, he had not seen Lily, but Potter’s face surrounding Lily’s eyes, and his bitterness over Lily’s ultimate choice of husband had made him blind to the fact that Harry was as much Lily’s son as he was James’s.

But now there was Erin. Not once, since he had lost Lily, had Severus looked at another woman with love or passion. Until Erin. He did not know why this Muggle woman stirred feelings inside him that had lain dormant for so very long.

Oh, he had not remained celibate, he was not dead, after all. He was a man, and men’s bodies clamoured for release every now and then, but any sexual partner Severus had indulged himself with had never engendered affection, nor even passion. They had been vessels to ease his body’s cravings, that was all, and he had made that plain from the outset of any liaison. Truth to tell there had been few enough of them anyway.

But Erin had done what none other but Lily had ever been able to do. She had made him feel alive and wanted for himself. She was bright like Lily, she was unafraid and she did not allow him to dictate the terms of their relationship. And she cared for him as Lily had done…cared for his wellbeing.

But where Lily had eventually baulked at his obsession with the dark Arts and his nasty temper and his choice of so-called friends, Erin had seen his nasty temper and given him back as good as she had gotten, she had deduced what he was and she had looked past it to the man he was beneath. And all of this in two short weeks.

This fact alone now made Severus finally understand why Lily could never countenance his lifestyle and his choices. She had never been in love with him. She had only ever considered him as her best friend. She must always have been attracted to Potter, and though she had always lambasted her fellow Gryffindor for his bullying ways and his childishness, she must always have harboured a hope that he would one day grow up. And he had done. After fifth year, James had not joined in the pranking and the utter foolishness that Sirius Black and the sycophant, Peter Pettigrew got up to with anywhere near the alacrity that he had done in their earlier years at school. And Lily had eventually succumbed to his roguish charms.

But for the first time since he had espied the beautiful little red-haired child in the park near his childhood home, Severus did not feel crushed by his feelings for Lily. Oh, he still loved her and he mourned her, but it did not hurt like it had always done. The pain that had always encased his heart had lifted. He now saw Lily for what she had been able to give him…her friendship and affection, both things that he could still have had if he had made the right choices.

And he could now understand and accept her anger at him for all the wrong choices he had made. He did not need to obsess about her anymore because the woman in the seat behind him was willing to give him what he had always wanted from Lily but which she had never ultimately been able to give him. And that was fine, he now realised. He should always have been happy that Lily was happy with her choices…with the man she had fallen in love with and then with her child.

Well, he was determined now that he would look after Harry for his mother’s sake, and not because Albus Dumbledore demanded it of him.

“Are you all right?” Severus asked now and Erin met his eyes in the mirror.

She offered a small slightly wobbly smile and tightened her grip around Harry’s shoulders. “I will be,” she said softly, and Severus knew she was upset for Harry and what had nearly come to pass, and not because of what he had done to the fat Muggle in the bathroom.

8888

Severus had taken the first off ramp to exit the motorway and had driven for another fifteen minutes into the barren, but beautiful countryside of the Yorkshire Dales. There were a couple of farmhouses that could be seen in the distance, and Severus knew that one of them was inhabited by a wizarding family. He had to contact Dumbledore and from here, he was sure that his spell would not be commented upon if it was observed by any at the Ministry.

Erin didn’t bother to ask him where they were or what he was going to do when he stopped the car and got out. But she did see the amazingly bright light that she had seen before at Hogwarts, as it shot out of the end of Severus’s wand and streaked through the cloudy day at an amazing speed.

Erin had to move, her arm was becoming stiff and very sore. Of course, Harry woke up and while she massaged her arm, Erin watched him as he fought his way to the surface of consciousness. She knew when he was there, because he winced when he opened his mouth to yawn, snapping it shut again immediately.

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look around, his hand going to the back of his head to feel the lump there. He focused on Erin.

“What happened?” he asked before their surroundings caught his eye and he stared out of the window at the beautiful green hills surrounding them. “Where are we?” He jumped a little when Severus opened the door. Erin took this opportunity to slide out of the car to stretch.

“How do you feel?” asked Severus, bending down and studying Harry with his healer’s eye.

“My head and face hurt,” said Harry. “What happened to me?”

“You don’t remember what happened at the restaurant?” asked Severus carefully.

Harry shook his head, but stopped when the movement jarred his injuries. “No. I just remember arriving there. And suddenly we’re here.” He looked around again. “Where is here?”

“We are still in Yorkshire, but I drove off the main motorway.” Before Harry could ask any more questions, Severus slipped into the seat next to Harry and produced his wand and ignited its tip with a silent Lumos.

“Hey,” said Harry, leaning away from the bright wand tip. “What happened to not using magic?”

“Circumstances have changed,” said Severus, shortly. “Look at me.”

Severus shone the light in first one eye and then the other, watching that Harry’s pupils were equal in size and that they both reacted to the light. They did, and had done all along, so Severus was now sure that at least he did not have the worry of a bleed going on in the boy’s brain. Still, he would bear watching for another twenty-four hours and that was why he had contacted Dumbledore…that and the fact that he had used magic.

Severus urged Harry out of the car and sat him down on the grassy verge alongside the narrow roadway. “I have some salve here to reduce the swelling on you cheek and the back of your head,” said Severus, and while Severus tended him, Harry asked again, for the umpteenth time, what had happened to him, and Severus and Erin retold their lie.

Severus was waiting for a message from Dumbledore and they had been lounging (Harry) or walking backwards and forwards (Erin and Severus) for the last twenty minutes when a soft pop had both Severus and Erin whipping around, Severus’s wand already in his hand, to see Dumbledore standing at the back of the car.

Albus strode straight to the recumbent and deeply sleeping Harry and went down on one knee next to him. “Is he all right?” he asked in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the peaceful sleep.

“I thought you would send a message,” said Severus stowing his wand again as he and Erin approached Dumbledore.

“You made it sound as if you needed the personal touch, my boy. Things appear to have taken a rather unexpected turn.”

“You could say that,” bit out Severus. He gestured to Harry. “And the boy has a concussion as a result of his latest contretemps and I think he needs bed rest and observation.”

Albus brushed his hand over the unfamiliar brown hair. “Harry Potter sleeping in the daylight hours…I would have to agree with you Severus.”

“Then we will return to Hogwarts.”

Albus shook his head. “I am afraid that would not be advisable.”

“Why the hell not?” said Severus, only just managing to hold onto his temper. Erin grabbed his little finger and pulled on it in an effort to calm him. “He needs bed rest, Albus. And he needs skelegrow and the observations concomitant with its use. I cannot countenance him being jostled around in a car, any longer.

“Why, Severus, I would almost have to say that you are truly worried for our young Gryffindor,” said Dumbledore musingly. Severus ground his teeth together.

“I can see that to continue on a road journey will not be good for Harry in his current condition, my boy. Not to mention that Lord Voldemort will no doubt be on the lookout for Harry, now that magic has been used at a location where no known magical folk dwell. The risk is too great. They will be looking for disguises. And with Harry ill, you may have to resort to magic again at a moment’s notice.

“But I do not wish you to return to Hogwarts at this point in time, because…” Albus held up his hand to silence Severus’s automatic objection. “…because Rufus Scrimgeour has practically taken up residence at the castle. He and several Aurors.”

“What for?” asked Severus, incensed. Doesn’t he have enough to do looking after the welfare of the wizarding world at large?”

“That would certainly be what one would expect, but he is determined to speak to Harry, and as they of course know that Petunia Dursley is dead, they assume that Harry will turn up at the castle at some time or another. Of course, he is also trying to pick my brain about what the Order is up to. He is staying at Hogwarts for much of the time on the pretext that his supervision is needed in the fortifying of the wards around the school.”

“So he has ordered you to produce Harry, and you have not done so. I am surprised that he has not had you arrested.”

“He cannot have me arrested for anything that I have seen fit to do with Harry, because if Sirius could not, for whatever reason, take up the mantle of guardian, Lily and James named me as guardian in his stead. Rufus would make him a ward of the Ministry if he could, but he knows that he cannot.”

Severus was surprised by this information; he had no idea that Albus had officially been named Harry's guardian. He wondered if Harry knew. He very much doubted it. But now was not the time to ponder these developments.

“So what do we do then?” asked Severus, throwing his arms wide and slapping them down to his sides. “Hole up in some hotel until I am convinced that Harry is well enough to continue on with the rest of the journey?”

“I think that we can safely say that the advantages of having the three of you hidden amongst the masses of Muggles travelling the length and breadth of Great Britain has—as the saying goes—passed its use-by-date.”

Dumbledore turned and looked at Erin. “This will be the hardest on you, my dear, because I feel that the most efficacious course for us to take now is to get to the Burrow with all due haste, and the fastest way is Apparition. I know that we arranged the car journey partly so that we could avoid a magical means of transportation for you, but unfortunately, things did not work out as well as I had hoped.”

Erin sighed, but she nodded resignedly. “I can have more of that potion that knocked me out, can’t I? It worked well the last time. I had none of the side effects.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I took the liberty of raiding Severus’s stores and pilfering more of the potion and its antidote.” Severus scowled. He did not like anyone, even Dumbledore, fiddling around amongst his potions’ stores.

Severus knew there was no point in arguing. He retrieved the bags from the boot of the car and with a wave of his wand, he shrunk them and placed them in a trouser pocket.

“Where is the Burrow?” asked Erin curiously. She had never thought to ask exactly where they were travelling to.

“It is in Devon,” said Dumbledore and Erin realised that they would have had another full day of travelling ahead of them tomorrow. “I take it that it is not protected by the Fidelius Charm, because I can actually say the words.

Albus beamed at her. “Very good, my dear. You are a fast learner. No, it is not hidden by the Fidelius Charm, but its security is the most advanced that can be afforded a dwelling without benefit of Fidelius. The Fidelius Charm has its disadvantages, but if it should prove necessary, for Harry’s protection, then Molly and Arthur are perfectly willing to go down that road.

“And now…” Dumbledore delved into a deep pocket of his mink-coloured robes and withdrew a tiny bottle. He looked at Severus who was standing with his arms crossed, his habitual scowl back in place. “If you take Harry, my boy…” and Dumbledore waved his wand over the sleeping boy, levitating him into the air and placing his slight weight in Severus’s arms. “I will meet you at the Burrow with Miss Hanson.”

“You are sure you have the antidote?” asked Severus, more as a delaying tactic than a need for reassurance. He knew Dumbledore would have the second bottle. Albus chuckled and patted his pocket.

With no further excuse to linger, Severus looked at Erin and threw her a tight smile. “I will see you in a few minutes.”

She smiled back and watched as Paul Vale Disapparated, once again surprised that she had become used to the amazing things that witches and wizards could do as quickly as she had. She watched as Dumbledore twirled his wand in an intricate series of movements over the car, his lips moving but no sound escaping as he vanished the Ford Escort to whence it had come.

Dumbledore, smiled at her reassuringly as he broke the wax seal and pulled the cork from the bottle. “And I will see you awake again in very short order,” he said.

Erin took the bottle and downed its contents unhesitatingly. She stood as the colours surrounding her coalesced in a swirling kaleidoscope, and then she knew nothing else.

When Severus emerged from the tight, airless and exceedingly uncomfortable sensation of Apparition, he found himself standing in the lane leading to the Burrow, about ten yards away from the three barred wooden gate. As he hoisted Harry into a more secure position against his chest, he strode, somewhat hampered, the several yards that brought him to the gate.

He was pleased to see a member of the Weasley family—the vivid hair made identification easy—hurrying along the gravel driveway, and it was almost immediately that Severus recognised the handsome features of the oldest boy, Bill. As he neared the gate, the young man reached behind and pulled his wand from a rear pocket of the faded jeans that he wore.

Severus raised his eyebrows when Bill stopped several yards short of the barrier that prevented Severus entering the property. “Who are you, and what business do you have here?” asked Bill in a hard voice.

Severus rolled his eyes and hoisted Harry again; the boy might not have been large for his age, but still, the constant weight was enough to set Severus’s back and shoulders aching. Severus knew Dumbledore had contacted the Burrow about their imminent arrival, so who the hell did Weasley think they were? Though Severus had to admit that it was perhaps unlikely that the old man had mentioned that the new arrivals would look like total strangers.

“It is I, Severus Snape, bringing Harry Potter,” he said in as patient a voice as he could conjure.

Bill scrutinised the visitors, his blue eyes lingering on Harry for several seconds before he looked back at Severus. “We weren’t informed that you would be transfigured.”

“Potter and I have been transfigured with Polyjuice Potion since yesterday morning…an added precaution while we were travelling by car from Northern Scotland.”

Bill still scrutinised the pair suspiciously. “Show me your Patronus,” he ordered.

An already irate Severus felt his simmering anger begin to bubble more furiously . “In case it has escaped your notice, Weasley, I have my hands full at the moment.”

Bill jerked his wand downwards so that it pointed at the ground at Severus’s feet. “Put him down and show me your Patronus.”

Severus set his jaw, but he knew that there was little point in arguing. Weasley was only doing what he should be doing. Even if he and Harry looked like their real selves, Severus would have been disdainful of the lack of security if Weasley had not challenged him and sought unequivocal proof that he was who he purported to be.

With no little difficulty, Severus went down on one knee and deposited Harry on the ground. He supported his shoulders, leaning his flopping head against his own shoulder while fishing his wand out of his pocket; he pointed the wand at a largish stone and transfigured it into a cushion, placing it carefully under Harry’s head.

Bill watched this performance with more than a little suspicion. If everything that he had heard about Harry’s relationship with Hogwarts infamous Potions Master was true, and if this man was Severus Snape, then he was acting highly out of character. Hell, Snape being concerned for anyone’s comfort was highly out of character. If this was Snape and if that was Harry. Well, he would find out in a few seconds wouldn’t he? Although Bill was ninety-nine, point nine percent sure that he was Snape. The combination of Dumbledore’s message, and not fifteen minutes later, the arrival of this man and boy was just too much of a coincidence.

Severus stood again. He filled his mind with a vision of Erin and incanted Expecto Patronum! A beautiful, luminescent, silver-white doe erupted from the end of Severus’s wand and there was now absolutely no doubt in Bill’s mind that this was Severus Snape.

Every member of the Order of the Phoenix knew what each of the other’s Patronus was. They could all produce a Patronus except for Mundungus Fletcher. Even the twins could produce a Patronus, much to everyone’s surprise, and they had not been too proud to admit that a boy two years their junior had taught them. Bill remembered everyone being suitably impressed, and Lupin being ridiculously proud, as it had been he who had taught Harry how to produce a Patronus. Even Snape had been hard pressed to conjure his usual disdain; the fact of a thirteen year old boy being able to produce a Patronus powerful enough to ward off a hoard of Dementors was undeniably impressive.

But this man’s Patronus was also a magnificent thing, there was no doubt of that. Their Patronuses were not just a means of communication for the members of the Order, they were also the perfect means of identification. No one’s Patronus could be produced by another...they were wholly individual.

“Satisfied?” asked Severus acerbically, but Bill was already deconstructing enough of the powerful wards that he himself was largely responsible for, to let Severus and Harry through the gate. Severus used his wand to levitate Harry and, in deference to his thirty-six year old spine, he maintained the spell as he stalked through the gate and towards the large, ramshackle house.

“Perhaps you could stay and wait for Dumbledore, Weasley. Your guard dog act is exemplary, by the way.” This was all tossed over his shoulder so Severus did not see the scowl that he was sure would have appeared on the good-looking face.

As he neared the door, two smaller red-heads tumbled onto the porch and stared at the stranger and his floating companion. Severus mentally groaned. God! The youngest of the brood. Isn’t September through to the end of June enough time to be afflicted with the likes of Ronald Weasley?

Severus could tolerate Ginevra Weasley much more than he could her brothers. Even Percy, with his higher than average intelligence had been a pain in the arse because he had been so sanctimonious in his superiority. And if the truth was known, the youngest Weasley actually had more natural talent for Potions than Percy had ever had.

Just as Severus arrived at the porch, Molly Weasley threw the door open and took charge, chivvying her gormless son and worried-looking daughter out of the way so that Severus could enter. She was appalled to see the young boy being floated along like a marionette. She didn’t waste time demanding to know who Severus was, assuming correctly, that Bill would not have allowed a total stranger through the wards.

“Lord above, Severus,” said Molly, leading the way quickly to the stairs. “What has happened to him?” But she didn’t stop to listen to his explanation; she led Severus into a small, crowded, but neat bedroom, furnished with double beds, a single chest of draws between them and a wardrobe at their base. Molly whipped the scarlet (of course) chenille quilt and the bedclothes down and Severus finally lowered the child he had dubbed Aidan onto the white sheet.

Severus lit the tip of his wand and checked Harry’s pupils…they were still equal and reacting. His other vital signs appeared fine as well. Then Severus tried to wake Harry…he was a little worried that the boy had managed to stay oblivious throughout their Apparition and many changes of position. Calling his name elicited no immediate response. It took quite a vigorous shake to get a moan out of him, but Severus had to actually pinch the fleshy part of Harry’s ear to get him to respond enough to open his eyes. Harry tried to lift his arm to push the source of the pain away, but he never completed the movement; his limbs were too heavy.

Harry’s eyes were blank for several seconds, not focusing on either Severus, or Molly, who was on the other side of the bed. Molly looked at Severus, her eyes projecting the worry that Severus was feeling. Harry seemed more groggy than he had been when he had first woken up in the car. He had regained consciousness then by himself, when Severus had carried him out the back door of the restaurant to put him into the car that Erin had driven around so that they would not be seen.

But this time, painful stimulus had been needed. Severus shone his wand light into Harry’s eyes again. His pupils were certainly reacting, but they were slightly more dilated than they should have been, and their reaction was just a little sluggish. Though Harry certainly didn’t like the light being shone in his eyes. He groaned and turned his head away.

“What’s the matter with him?” asked Molly, no longer able to remain silent. If she had not known that Severus Snape was a healer and that Albus had put him in charge of Harry, she would have interrupted these ministrations long before now. She had, after all, heard the stories of how much Snape hated Harry.

“He fell and hit his head,” said Severus distractedly, but when Harry’s eyes drifted shut again, he called his name sharply, forgoing a more elaborate explanation. Molly watched fearfully as Harry tried to lift his eyelids again, but failed. Severus called him loudly again, and then pinched the earlobe.

“Oww!” protested Harry, his exclamation emerging in a slow, slurry voice. He tried to push Severus’s hand away, but once again, was unable to lift his arm. “Stop,” he moaned. “Hurts…” but his eyes were, once again, drifting shut.

“Harry! Look at me!” said Severus forcefully, and when Harry didn’t comply, he yelled, “Potter!”

Severus slapped Harry’s cheek several times, the movements short and sharp, the noise of his hand on Harry’s flesh ringing out in the room. Harry’s eyes opened again, and this time, he did manage to raise his arm to push the offending hand away.

“Geroff!” he said, angrily, his voice a little more forceful this time, but still slurred.

“Look at me, Potter,” demanded Severus, his voice still forceful. And he repeated the words more loudly, right next to Harry’s ear.

“All right! Geeze!” said Harry, and he tried very hard to focus on the face close to his own.

“Who am I?” asked Severus. Harry stared hard, but didn't answer.

“Potter, who am I?” repeated Severus, more loudly.

Harry licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. “Thirsty…” he said, as if the question had not been asked.

“Tell me who I am, and you can have some water,” said Severus, and he threw Molly a pointed look.

Molly had no intention of leaving and she in turn glared at her two youngest children who were hovering in the doorway, both looking frightened for the kid that they knew was Harry, even though he didn’t look like Harry. Neither wanted to leave, but it was obvious that Ron was not going to give up his post. Ginny threw one last look at the stranger on the bed and departed to get the requested water, though reluctantly.

Harry was trying to focus on the man who was tormenting him, but really, all he wanted to do was sleep. The man was a stranger, and yet…Something hovered on the edge of Harry’s consciousness. What was it?

“Potter! Who am I?”

Harry focused so hard, a crease developed between his eyes. Then he screwed up his face in apparent pain. “It hurts,” he moaned.

“What hurts?” asked Severus sharply.

“Head,” said Harry weakly and his eyes tried to drift shut once more, but Severus slapped his cheek again.

“Leave…alone…” moaned Harry in an irritable voice. “Wanna sleep.”

Severus was really worried now. Harry had not been this confused or sluggish earlier. The concussion was obviously worse than he had first thought and Harry would need constant monitoring for many a long hour to come.

Severus looked towards the door when he heard hurried footsteps. Ginny pushed past her brother with a carafe of water and a glass clasped in her hands. And Severus was relieved to see Dumbledore and Erin following her. Bill stopped at the doorway with Ron and both young men had their eyes focused on the new female in their midst; Ron’s mouth had of course dropped open at the appearance of the attractive woman.

Ginny had hurried to Severus’s side and he took the water and the glass from her. She then stepped back to allow Professor Dumbledore to take her place.

“What has happened, Severus?” asked Dumbledore.

“He is difficult to rouse and his speech is slurred,” said Severus, tightly. He handed the full glass of water to Dumbledore and then took a sleeping Harry by the arm and pulled him upright, pointing his wand at the pillow and multiplying it by three. Harry moaned at the change of position and Severus began his attempts to rouse the boy all over again.

Harry was becoming more and more irritable and though he drank his water greedily, he could still not recognise Severus.

“Perhaps, my boy,” said Dumbledore, gently, “you might consider changing back to your normal persona. You have not been in this guise for very long, and if Harry has lost time, a circumstance that is, according to you, entirely possible, even probable, then he may not remember Paul Vale.

Severus had been so taken up with worry for Harry--and that circumstance still struck him at odd moments with its sheer improbability—it had not occurred to him that his Polyjuiced persona could well be a stumbling block. With a set mouth, he stepped back and allowed Dumbledore to take his place near Harry’s head. Erin, after gazing at Harry for a few more seconds, went and stood by Severus’s side, putting her hand on his arm in an effort to calm his obvious irritation. Severus did not acknowledge her, but nor did he shake her hand off. Two pairs of blue Weasley eyes and two pairs of brown, stared, mesmerised, at the sight of Severus Snape standing in such close proximity to a young woman, allowing her to touch him without actually sneering at her. Severus could feel there amazement, but he ignored them.

While he fished in his pocket for the miniaturised luggage, Albus tried to gently coax Harry into wakefulness, and failed miserably.

“He is only responding to mild painful stimulus at the moment, Albus,” said Severus shortly. He pointed his wand at his shrunken hold all and spelled it back to its normal, prodigious size. Then, instead of taking the time to rummage around, he summoned the antidote for the Polyjuice Potion. Two small phials slapped into his hand and he gave one to Erin to hold and opening the second, he drank it down in one swallow.

The Weasley’s and Dumbledore—who had abandoned his attempt to wake Harry—watched as, over the next forty seconds, Severus Snape appeared in the place of the blonde, grey eyed man they had been viewing for the last fifteen minutes. Ron, who had only just managed to contain his shock at the appearance of the pretty woman in their midst, widened his eyes even more as the new shock of seeing his normally black-robed Potion’s master dressed in casual Muggle clothes, registered.

“Here,” said Severus softly to Erin, ignoring, once again the interested eyes around him. He took Erin’s chin in hand and pointed his wand at her, incanting wordlessly to reverse the spell that had given Erin dark hair. Her locks returned to their normal golden-red, and lengthened about three inches. Bill and Ron’s eyes widened in appreciation, but it was short lived as they refocused on Snape who had taken Dumbledore’s place near the sleeping Harry’s head.

Molly and Dumbledore, who had been having a rather intense conversation over Harry’s prone form, fell silent and Erin went and stood next to Ginny at the foot of the bed. As Ginny had made it into the room, she was loath to return to the doorway to hover. The woman and the young girl threw tight smiles at each other and then focused on Healer Snape as he attempted, once again, to lighten Harry’s conscious state.

This time, after more ear pinching and face slaps, Harry awoke in a very irritable frame of mind, a state not unusual for people who had suffered a head injury. This time, though, Harry finally recognised his tormentor and was rewarded with the glass of water that he quaffed down like a dying man in the desert.

When his thirst was appeased, Severus forced him to stay awake and focus on the other occupants of the room. Harry’s responses were certainly not instantaneous, but he eventually recognised Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Ginny and Erin. Both of the young women’s eyes filled with tears as Harry stared at them intently before whispering their names. Severus didn’t force Harry to identify Bill or Molly because his speech was becoming even more slurred, his need for sleep paramount.

As his eyes drifted closed again, seven pairs of eyes remained focused on the face of the twelve year old Muggle boy; but there was no doubt they were all seeing Harry’s fine-boned face, his green eyes with their black sweep of long lashes, and the untidy, black hair.

“Will he be OK?” whispered Ginny, unable to hide her distress any longer. Her brown eyes were huge when she transferred her gaze to Severus.

“It is a waiting game with injuries such as this, Miss Weasley, but though Harry is confused and his speech and movements sluggish, the lack of certain other symptoms, lead me to believe that he will recover.” Ginny swallowed and nodded, transferring her gaze back to Harry’s face.

“Well,” said Dumbledore, “I think we could all do with a dose of the universal panacea, Molly.”

Molly visibly gathered herself together, breathing in deeply and blinking her eyes several times to rid them of excess moisture.

“Of course,” she said, her voice all business. “Right away.” She walked purposely towards the door, taking Ginny’s elbow in a gentle grip as she passed. “Come along Ginny, dear. You can help me.”

Ginny twisted her arm away from her mother’s hold. “I want to stay,” she said, not taking her eyes from Aidan’s face. Molly looked at Severus, expecting him to tell Ginny to leave, but he surprised them all.

“Someone has to stay with him until he is more alert and fully rousable. “You may take the first shift, Miss Weasley.” Ron stepped forward, his face set and white.

“I’m staying too,” he said determinedly, and when Severus’s black eyes bore into him, he couldn’t help the blood rushing to his face.

“Very well,” said Severus. “If either of you are worried about anything, or if Harry wakes, summon me immediately.”

Dumbledore smiled at Ron and Ginny who had both lowered themselves onto the edge of the second bed, before ushering Severus and Erin ahead of him to follow Molly and Bill down the narrow stairs.

Ginny and Ron sat and stared at Aidan for several seconds, and then Ginny felt Ron’s head turn towards her. She dragged her eyes from the patient, her eyebrows raised in question. Ron shook his head disbelievingly. “Harry?” he croaked, and then with another doubtful shake of his head, he repeated, “He called him, Harry?”

Ginny sighed, her eyes focused on Aidan’s face again. “I wish he had reversed the Polyjuice on Harry before he left,” she whispered, and Ron stared at her, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

8888

“Are you all right?” Severus asked Erin at the base of the stairs. He had taken her arm to hold her back.

Erin nodded and then, surprising herself as much as she surprised Severus, she threw herself into his arms and burst into tears. “What a bloody horrible day,” she sniffed. “Travelling by car was supposed to be the safest option for us.”

Severus cradled the back of her head, pressing her face against his shoulder. “It’s my fault. I should have gone with him.”

“How could anyone think that anything would happen in the bathroom?” asked Erin, reasonably. “It was a family restaurant, for God’s sake.” She sniffled and resting her forehead on Severus’s shoulder, she angled her hips back and began delving in her jeans pocket for a tissue.

Severus kissed the top of her head. “Paedophiles abound, even in our world, Erin. My mistake was not thinking of Muggles presenting any danger.”

Erin stepped back a little so that she could dry her eyes and cheeks. Severus caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and when he glanced up sharply, it was to see Bill Weasley watching them from the doorway into the living room.

Severus drew himself up, narrowing his eyes as he glared back at the red-head. Bill made a gesture with his hand to indicate the drinking of a beverage before disappearing back the way he had come. Erin noticed Severus’s flint eyed stare and she turned to see what had him so put out; but Bill had already disappeared.

“Come,” said Severus, taking Erin’s elbow and leading her towards the kitchen. “I believe sustenance is being prepared.”

Before they reached the kitchen, Erin put her hand on Severus’s chest to stop him. “You do think Harry will be all right, don’t you Sev? You weren’t just saying that for the others’ benefit?”

Severus raised his face heavenwards and ran his hand through his long, black hair. “He definitely has a concussion, but he is not bleeding into his brain, and his skull isn’t fractured. I am not sure how long it will take—perhaps a day or two—but he will slowly return to his normal, annoying self.”

Erin smacked him on the shoulder. “I saw how worried you were for him, Severus, even before today’s happenings, so there is no point pretending that you are totally indifferent.” Severus just grunted and marched into the kitchen where Molly, Bill and Dumbledore sat around the large, scrubbed-pine table, drinking large mugs of tea and, in Albus’s case, finishing up a large slab of dark fruit cake.

“Ah, Severus, Erin,” said Albus, brushing the crumbs from his fingers. “He stood and held out the chair next to him and Erin, suddenly self-conscious, slipped into it, aware as she did so, of the slightly suspicious gaze of the woman she knew to be Molly Weasley and the calculating blue gaze of the very good-looking man she had heard addressed as Bill.

“Introductions are overdue, I believe,” continued Albus, as Severus slipped into the chair next to Erin and reached for the large brown pottery teapot. “This, Erin, is the home of our very good friends and colleagues, the Weasleys.” And he introduced Molly, who smiled tightly, and Bill, who nodded his head, his eyes still assessing. Severus was not unaware of the charms that the young man had in abundance, and his gut clenched as he passed her a mug full of light brown liquid, when he saw Erin smile at Bill. The urge to hex a stunning crop of pus filled pimples onto the handsome visage was nearly overwhelming and Severus took a too hasty sip of his own deeper burgundy tea, only to burn his tongue quite badly.

“Molly, Bill, this is Erin Hanson,” continued Albus. “I need not go into distressing details; you know enough of the circumstances surrounding Erin’s entry into the Wizarding World.” Dumbledore reached for the teapot and poured himself another cup of tea.

Molly took up the conversational challenge. “You lived next door to Harry’s relatives, is that right, Miss Hanson?”

Erin nodded. “Please, call me Erin. And yes, that’s right. My parents have lived next door to the Dursleys for eight years. They’re in Australia at the moment, visiting my brother. I was house-sitting for them.” Erin felt the curious leaden feeling steal through her veins whenever she contemplated the total devastation that had befallen her parent’s home…her parent’s street. “But neither the Dursley’s house, nor my parents’ house are standing any longer. In fact, I have been informed that most of Privet Drive no longer exists.”

Most of the suspicion melted from Molly’s gimlet gaze, and she reached over and placed her hand over the back of Erin’s where it rested on the table. “You poor dear,” she said, her kind heart taking over from her suspicious nature. “What a terrible thing to have to live with. Do your parents know?”

Erin swallowed and nodded. Molly squeezed her hand. “They must be so worried for you. What have you told them?”

Before Erin could answer, Dumbledore interrupted. “Molly, Erin, in all probability, does not want to visit this subject. Suffice to say that her parents know and that their minds have been set at rest as to Erin’s present wellbeing.

Molly pursed her lips and subsided, albeit with ill-grace. She did not take kindly to being told what to do, especially in her own home, but she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Dumbledore was their undisputed leader and it had become habit to follow his orders; she also realised that her questioning of the young woman sitting at her table had bordered on rudeness.

When Dumbledore had told Molly that the young Muggle woman who had befriended Harry, and who had been rescued along with him on the night of the Death Eater attack, would be arriving at the Burrow with Harry and Severus, she had not had much time to think about the mystery of why a Muggle had stayed on at Hogwarts rather than being ‘Obliviated’ and sent back to where she belonged.

Not, thought Molly, feeling more than a little guilty for her unsympathetic views, that the poor girl belonged anywhere, anymore, unless it was in Australia with the rest of her family. Offering the plate of fruit cake to Erin, she took the opportunity to study her pretty face. She came to the conclusion that the woman could not be much older than Bill, and Molly knew that if she could not be around to assist any of her children during a crisis, then she would hope that another mother would take her child under her wing.

Molly brought the subject around to Harry and his present travails. Erin, who was aware of Severus’s simmering irritation with Bill because the young man kept on shooting covert glances at her, could feel his temper take a sharp upward turn at Molly’s probing. She dropped her hand surreptitiously under the table and found Severus’s thigh, which she squeezed firmly, signalling him to stay calm.

Severus heeded her warning and he took a deep breath, answering Molly as calmly as he could, sticking to the story he and Erin had devised, whilst remaining uncomfortably aware of the small, warm hand resting very near a vulnerable part of his anatomy. He wished very much that the two of them were anywhere but here. He wished, pointlessly, that they had completed their journey with no mishaps because he knew there was no way that he could leave Harry any time soon; not in the condition he was in. The extended time when he would not be able to be alone with Erin was going to be torture; it was getting more and more difficult on a daily basis, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out without ravaging her.

Molly clucked her tongue and shook her head at Harry’s latest instalment of bad luck. She had been quite angry at Harry for his precipitous journey to the Ministry in June, dragging two of her children with him. But Ron and Ginny had howled her down when she and Arthur had visited them in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, leaving her in no doubt that short of Harry actually immobilising them, there wasn’t any way that they would have stayed at the school when their friend was determined to put himself in danger.

And then Dumbledore had relayed more facts to them: how He Who Must Not Be Named had entered Harry’s mind and tricked him into going to the Ministry in a bid to save Sirius, and how the evil wizard had almost killed Harry by possessing him.

Molly’s anger at Harry had quickly dissipated; how could she remain angry at him for acting on the impulse to go after Sirius, when the same sort of mind connection had saved Arthur’s life at Christmas? And how could she remain angry at him when he had lost another person who was close to him?

“Oh, that poor dear boy,” said Molly sadly, at the end of the tale. “How much more can he take?

“It was rather unfortunate, Molly,” said Severus, “but though Potter’s injury is worse than it first appeared to me—and concussions by definition are unpredictable—this latest episode in Potter’s very chequered history of significant episodes, was just an accident.” He dropped his hand and placed it over Erin’s where it rested on his thigh, and squeezed. He had no doubt that Molly would believe his…their lie, but he was fully aware that Harry’s run of terrible luck had continued unabated. If Severus had believed in Divination, he could easily believe that the boy had been born under the baleful influence of an unaspected heavenly body; Sybil Trelawney believed it, anyway.

All at the table had fallen silent during Severus’s explanation of Harry’s latest injury. Dumbledore, who of course knew the truth, was tapping his fingertips together under his long crooked nose and gazing up at the ceiling. Bill had pushed his chair back so that it was resting on its rear legs and his blue eyes were moving between Erin and Severus. Molly might believe their story, but Bill was a little more astute than his mother. Severus could see the questions teeming in the man’s brain.

As everyone had finished their tea and cake, Molly began puttering around, putting her kitchen to rights. She pointed her wand at the old fashioned tap and immediately, soapy water began to cascade into the sink. Erin jumped up, shocking Severus a little with her abrupt movement. She hurried to the sink and offered to help Molly washing the few dishes.

“Thank you, dear. But there’s no need to trouble yourself.” And indeed, Erin did see that her assistance was superfluous. The dishes were washing and drying themselves. Molly began to measure out some flour into a huge mixing bowl and Erin stood beside her, feeling totally useless. She could hear the three men talking behind them at the table, but she thought it would be rude to rejoin them and leave Molly alone.

As Molly began to rub butter through the flour with her fingertips, she turned and smiled at Erin. “So, Erin—such a pretty name, by the way—I believe you could have only met Harry at the beginning of these summer holidays, as Ron had never heard Harry mention you before.”

Erin nodded, sure that this was the beginning of another interrogation. It was not difficult to see that Molly Weasley was a woman to be reckoned with. It was also obvious that she cared greatly for Harry. “I think he could have been home for several days before I actually met him,” she said, and Molly raised her eyebrows.

“But the kids have barely been home a fortnight. So you have really only known Harry for a little more than a week.”

Erin was a little taken aback when she realised that what Molly said was perfectly true. She had only known Harry for little more than a week. But that week felt like a year to her and she silently wondered at how quickly her feelings for the young boy had become so intense. Harry Potter had brought out her hitherto non-existent maternal feelings in just ten days. She had told Harry that she felt like his older sister, but that was not entirely true. Surely she felt much more protective of him than a mere sister would feel?

She had a niece and a nephew in Australia, and love them as she did, she had still never felt the intensity of emotion for Jacob and Grace that she did for the young man upstairs. Probably because Jacob and Grace already had two parents who loved them beyond life itself and Harry had not appeared to have anyone who cared for him at all.

She had since found out of course, that there were people who cared for him, cared greatly, in fact, but they all seemed to be at a distance. She had felt an overwhelming need to be there for Harry, and Dumbledore had given her that opportunity. He may have wanted her with Harry to act as a buffer between Harry and Severus, but Erin was sure that he had also felt that Harry needed her with him for the emotional support she could offer.

Erin felt a twinge of guilt as these thoughts assailed her. She had been there for Harry, but not as much as she should have been when they had been at the Haven. Her preoccupation with Severus had distracted her to a certain degree from the job she was supposed to do.

No, not job, she thought. Being there for Harry isn’t a job.

But perhaps her preoccupation with Severus had had one positive effect. When prickly, disagreeable Severus Snape had finally been able to relax in his knowledge of their mutual attraction to each other, he had slowly started to relax his long held, and very negative beliefs, that Harry Potter was not a young man who deserved his time, nor his positive attention. Their mutual animosity had slowly relaxed to the point where they had been able to converse without snarling at each other…well, for a portion of the time they spent together anyway.

It had been a bit of a shock to her when she had realised that Harry had a crush on her; she had been totally oblivious. But she was sure that his relatively easy capitulation was an indication that it had only ever been a teenager’s crush on an older woman; he even seemed to have come to an acceptance of her and Severus being a couple. Erin still felt more than a little guilty when she remembered that night when it had all come to a head, and how she had lashed out at Harry for his language, and his views of the relationship that she and Severus had finally found themselves enjoying; she had not reacted well to his clear determination to press her buttons.

At least they had been able to settle things between them, even if Harry had found it difficult to suspend his disbelief that she could find Severus attractive in any way, shape or form. In the end, Harry’s own infatuation had been thrown aside in favour of his feelings of protectiveness for her. She had left him that evening feeling concern for her because of what he knew of his Professor’s extra-curricular activities.

Obviously, Harry’s fears had been at least partially assuaged, because he had not tried to bring up the subject of her and Severus being together again. In fact, it seemed that Harry had decided to make the supreme effort, whether for her sake or because of the circumstance of he and Severus being thrown into such close proximity day after day, but the two wizard’s relationship had become less volatile over the last couple of days and it continued to improve…Severus was now, undeniably protective towards his young charge.

Harry might not be comfortable around them when they were being a couple, but that was more the fact that any teenage boy was uncomfortable with the physical demonstrativeness of a grown couple…any couple really. She could remember being highly embarrassed if her own mother and father had ever had the audacity to hold hands in public, and they had done just that…often. Perhaps this was why she felt it so difficult to keep her hands off her Potions Master…demonstrativeness seemed to be genetic!

Molly was now adding a small amount of water to her flour and butter mixture, and she began kneading it with her hands. Erin was fascinated; Molly was obviously an accomplished cook. Her own mother was a good cook, but she had never made pastry making look quite as easy as this woman was managing to do. She seemed to turn it into an art form. Erin could not recall her own mum ever making pastry from scratch…she usually resorted to frozen sheets, but occasionally, if she was feeling creative, she would use the packets and add her own water.

“You make that look easy,” said Erin, meaning it, but also wanting to stop Molly being so determined to be suspicious of her.

Molly threw her a smile and, kneading finished, she began to flour a marble block in preparation for tipping the huge ball of pastry onto it. She had performed the whole procedure up to now without magic, but after she had flattened the mass with the heels of her hands, she enchanted a marble rolling-pin and left it to roll the pastry out, while she went to the old fashioned ice chest and removed a large bowl filled with chunks of meat.

“Cooking is easy,” she said without a hint of complacency. “Many people say they can’t do it because they don’t want to take the time and make the effort. Do you cook, dear?”

Erin grimaced. “I’m afraid I’m one of those people who doesn’t really bother. I’ve been by myself for quite a while; I do a lot of stir-fries and I grill the odd steak. But I would no more make a pie for myself than I would fly to the moon. That requires way too much effort.”

Molly nodded understandingly. “I must admit that when the kids are at school, and now that my older boys have mostly left home, if Arthur is working late, I am thrilled just to be able to do myself scrambled eggs or baked beans on toast.”

“Understandable,” said Erin, “if this is the sort of meal you produce when they’re at home.”

“I do enjoy this though,” said Molly. “I find cooking relaxing.”

The two women fell silent for a few minutes and Erin watched, fascinated as Molly picked some fresh herbs from an array of pots on her window sill and set a knife to work, chopping them finely. The older woman began to prepare some vegetables in the meantime.

“So,” said Molly, obviously gearing up for some conversation that didn’t centre on food and the preparation thereof. And sure enough…“So, Erin, you did not know the Dursleys well?”

Erin vaguely noted that she had seen Bill had leave the room a short while ago, and that Severus and Albus had been talking quietly together since that time. But their conversation petered out when Molly’s question reached their ears and Erin knew they were listening.

“No. I had nodded to Petunia over the fence when I first moved into number six. But she pretended that she didn’t see. She had no desire to speak to me because she and my parents didn’t see eye to eye.”

Molly turned side-on to the bench and stared directly into Erin’s moss-green eyes. “So you had no idea that those people were ill-treating Harry?”

“Molly…” Dumbledore’s voice held a warning and Severus had pushed to his feet and stridden to Erin’s side, his face livid that Molly had been determined to revisit this subject after already being admonished by Dumbledore.

“No, it’s all right,” said Erin. She smiled tightly at Molly and her tone was no longer affable. She faced the older woman with an upward tilt to her chin. “I’ll answer your question Mrs Weasley, but please do not presume that just because I am one of the most lowly of human beings in the eyes of many wizards, that I am devoid of all decent human emotions. I would stop short of nothing to rescue a child if I thought that child was being mistreated.”

Molly blushed spectacularly, clearly put out at being taken to task by this slip of a girl. Severus and Albus both stared at Erin with approval, silently applauding her spunk at standing up to the formidable Weasley matriarch. Not many were game.

“I suspected within minutes of meeting Harry that there was a problem,” continued Erin. “But it is difficult to act on suspicions alone, and Harry was far from forthcoming about his situation; he intimated that all was well. I worried about him, but I only saw him one other time, and that was on the day that the Death Eaters attacked.

“I had thought that there was something amiss at number four that evening, and as a result of my disquiet, I ended up being in the midst of the action…hence, my unscheduled trip to Hogwarts, and my entrée into the magical world.” Erin had no intention of telling Molly about how she had seen Severus entering the house and how she had armed herself with every intention of crowning Harry’s would-be assailant. And she most certainly was not going to go into the horror she had felt when she had caught that first glimpse of a bloody and beaten Harry lying on the floor with a black-garbed figure kneeling over him.

Erin had no idea how much any of these other Order members knew about how she had come to be at Hogwarts, but she had no intention of telling anyone, other than those already in the know, that she had ended up stunned at the hands of Remus Lupin.

But just at that moment, and focusing the tension in an entirely different direction, they all spun towards the back door as it slammed shut—Severus and Albus both bringing their wands forth with barely detected movements—and watched as two men entered the room. Their nerves jangled anew when Bill erupted back into the room from the direction of the living room, his own wand drawn, having also heard the slamming of the door.

Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin raised their hands, and the tension left the other occupants of the room with varying degrees of rapidity. Albus, Severus and Bill lowered their wands, and their would-be targets lowered their hands, looking more than a little chagrined at being responsible for this show of defensive aggression.

Molly said, “Arthur! You frightened us to death,” and Erin closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hand over her heart in an unconscious effort to help keep it moored in the centre of her chest.

“Sorry, Molly dear,” said Arthur, gathering his courage and crossing to his wife’s side and pecking her on the cheek. Then he turned to shake Albus and Severus by the hand, explaining that he had met Remus at the gate.

“But why are you home so early?” asked Molly, clearly still annoyed.

“Bill let me know that Harry and Severus were here.”

“I thought you would be at least another hour though, Dad,” said Bill, explaining why he had reacted with the same aggressive instincts as Albus and Severus.

“I thought I deserved an early finish, having worked overtime for the last two nights,” said Arthur, and then, unable to contain his excitement any longer, he turned towards Erin, smiling delightedly, and holding out his hand. “And of course, I was anxious to meet this charming young lady. How do you do, my dear. I am sure you have already ascertained the fact, but I am Arthur Weasley.”

Erin couldn’t help smiling back at the thin, balding, bespectacled man as she introduced herself and shook his hand. Molly’s husband seemed a much more amicable and accepting person than his wife. A quick glance at Molly’s tight, disapproving mouth told Erin that Molly, at least occasionally, thought her husband foolish in the extreme. The fiery woman had turned away and was slamming containers and implements around the bench-top. To try and defuse the situation a little, Erin gently extricated her hand which was still being held by Arthur, and turned a bright smile upon Remus.

“It’s good to see you again, Remus,” she said with absolute sincerity. But she could not help thinking that Remus looked as if he had recently been ill; he looked absolutely exhausted and was very pale. She also noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he clasped hers. But being her usual, demonstrative self, and pushing the suspicions she had about the sandy-haired wizard to the back of her mind, Erin reached up and kissed Remus’s scratchy cheek.

He looked surprised, but not displeased, unlike Severus, who looked positively formidable, when Erin happened to glance sideways at him. She tensed, waiting for the storm to break, feeling more than a little peeved that a friendly kiss should reduce him to this state of ire.

And sure enough, Severus’s voice emerged with an accompanying sneer when he said, “And why are you here, Lupin?”

Molly's fit of pique ceased abruptly upon hearing Severus’s words. She turned from the bench, her hands finding her ample hips as she glared at Severus.

“It is not for you to question the presence of Remus in my home, Severus Snape,” she bit out. The embarrassment she had felt at being rebuked by Erin Hanson, compounded by the sudden appearance of her husband, who was now making a fool of himself over a Muggle—an attractive, young, female Muggle—in his usual fashion. It was making her more than a little irate. “He is welcome here whenever he wishes to come.”

“Thank you, Molly. I appreciate the sentiment,” said Remus with a slightly nervous, slightly self-conscious smile. And it seemed that Remus felt safer facing the panther, rather than the lioness, because he turned to Severus and said with commendable ease, “And in answer to your question, Severus, I heard that Harry was here, and I dropped by to see how he was. After all, the last time I saw him, he was still in the hospital wing.”

“And Ha…Potter is your business because?”

“Severus…” intoned Dumbledore warningly, but Severus ignored his boss. He also chose not to acknowledge the puzzled look that Erin shot at him.

“Potter is unwell at the moment, and as his healer…”

Severus’s automatic rejection of Remus’s desire to see Harry was cut off mid sentence when simultaneously, a cry of distress was heard from above, and Severus hissed in pain as he grabbed at his left forearm with convulsive fingers.

As a frightened cry of, ‘Harry!’ resonated from above, Severus hissed again and tightened his grip around an obviously agonising pain. Erin, her face pale, stepped towards him, but he turned away, unwilling to let her see his distress. Rapid footsteps could now be heard clattering down the stairs, and just as Ginny appeared at the bottom, her face white, her eyes fearful, Severus, still grasping his forearm as if the extra support lessened the pain somehow, rushed past her, nearly knocking the petite fifteen year old flying.

Ginny didn’t even glance at anyone else; she turned without hesitation and raced after her professor. Paralysed limbs suddenly came to life, and all the adults made a move to follow in Ginny’s wake. Harry’s cries of pain were intensifying, lending wings to four sets of heels.

However their desire to check on Harry was denied them when they came up against an invisible barrier at the base of the stairs. Disentangling themselves after running headlong into a powerful Cushioning Charm, they looked stunned for a moment before they saw that Dumbledore had his wand drawn.

“Albus Dumbledore…” sputtered Molly, outraged. “What is the mean…”

“I am sorry Molly, but we all know the limited proportions of the bedroom where Harry is ensconced, and this crowd is not going to make Severus’s job any easier.”

Molly would have argued, but Arthur, ever sensible in a crisis, took his wife’s arm and let her back into the kitchen. “Albus is right, Molly. We will find out what is happening in good time.”

But though Molly calmed slightly, her outrage flared anew when she heard Albus tell Erin to go up. Molly roughly pulled her arm out of Arthur’s grip and took the few steps back towards the stairs in time to see Erin ascending rapidly.

“And just why is that young woman exempt from your strictures, Albus?”

“Molly…” Arthur sounded very put-upon. Remus moved away from the warring factions and crossed to a window, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed out at the overgrown garden. So much for his seeing Harry. Albus had not told him much at all about Harry’s absence from Hogwarts over the last several days. But it seemed that some things never changed. Harry was still suffering.

And Severus was still at the beck and call of Voldemort. Remus couldn’t prevent the stab of pity for his old schoolyard enemy; it didn’t quite overpower the guilt he felt whenever he was reminded of the poor choices his Slytherin contemporary had made. He always wondered whether he and his friends might not have been partly responsible for Severus making those poor choices because of the bullying he had endured at their hands throughout his stay at Hogwarts.

Remus was aware of Albus’s patient voice in the background trying to calm Molly. “If Harry is conscious, he will be comforted by Erin’s presence. He has come to rely on her being there for him.”

But Albus did not add that Severus would take more comfort from Erin’s presence than Harry would at this moment in time, and as he would be leaving in very short order for a meeting with Voldemort, Severus needed whatever comfort he could garner.

Erin sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. Casting a quick look at the peacefully sleeping boy before her, she eased out of her conjured chair and stretched the kinks out of her back. She crossed to the window and looked out over the darkened back garden of the house and property that she had been told was called ‘the Burrow’.

She could not see much of anything because it was a cloudy night, but if she had been able to take in the view beyond the window, she knew that all she would see would be an overgrown garden and derelict out-buildings. When she and Professor Dumbledore had arrived earlier that day, all she had seen was a ruin of a house set in a virtual wilderness garden. Like Hogwarts, a charm had been utilised to disguise the house and property from curious Muggle eyes. Bill had also explained to her that if any Muggle appeared at the Charms’ boundaries, they suddenly had an overwhelming desire to be somewhere else, and hence, left in a hurry, any desire to explore the overgrown property forgotten.

Erin glanced at her watch and began to pace up and down in the limited space beside the bed. Severus had been gone for eight hours now. And she was frightened. When he had felt that horrible brand on his arm burn, and Harry had woken in agony at the same time, Erin had felt a terrible foreboding. Severus had been unable to help Harry through his pain, other than to apply a salve to the inflamed and distended scar that had reappeared on Aidan’s forehead. He had not given him a systemic pain killer as they always caused varying degrees of drowsiness, and Harry did not need his conscious state compromised anymore. Harry had flailed around restlessly, whimpering with pain and trying to claw at his scar, but Severus, who had wasted no time in sending the two young Weasleys from the room, struggled against the twelve year old Aidan’s strength, holding his hands until the salve had taken the edge off the pain…the pain that was echoed in his own arm. Severus’s face had been pale and the muscles in his arm were contracting under the hideous assault upon his own senses; physically restraining a twelve year old had been much more difficult than it should have been.

Dumbledore had come and taken over the task, enabling Severus to leave on his unenviable mission without any further delay. With one hand gripped tightly over his forearm, Severus had stared at a frightened Erin, his teeth gritted against the pain. He had not taken her in his arms, nor allowed her to embrace him. With a taut smile that was little more than a grimace, he had whispered, “I will see you soon,” before disappearing out the door and hurrying down the stairs. Bill Weasley kept pace with him as he ran across the yard to disable the wards. While Severus waited, he transfigured his Muggle clothing into his Death Eater regalia and as soon as Bill had lowered the last invisible obstacle, Severus had stepped through.

“Stay safe,” Bill said. Severus skewered him with pain-glazed black eyes before acknowledging the well-wish with an abrupt nod. Then turning on the spot, he Disapparated.

Erin had stared at the spot in the room where Severus had been standing for a long time; Dumbledore’s soft, reassuring voice had dragged her back to the here and now. “Severus has been doing this for a long time, Erin. He will be back.”

Erin had no choice but to believe the old wizard, but how could they be sure Severus would be back? As far as Erin was concerned, any leader of men who had been depraved enough to devise such a painful method of summoning his servants, was perfectly capable of committing other atrocities against his own men. She knew what Voldemort was capable of. She no longer lived inside the bubble that blocked all knowledge of the magical world with all its wonders and all its horrors. She did not doubt that Severus would be punished for his delay in hurrying to his master’s side, and it terrified her to even think about it.

Erin knew that Severus must have made a terrible mistake when he was little more than a boy, but she still could not comprehend how any man, no matter how young, could allow another human being to enslave him. Severus and his fellow Death Eaters were no more than slaves who were obligated to answer Voldemort’s call whenever he felt inclined to summon them, and to do whatever he ordered under threat of appalling punishment, or even death.

Erin was frightened for the man she had come to know, the man she had, despite his efforts to push her away, come to love. She had seen how that Selwyn man had trembled in practically every muscle due to a punishment that his boss had doled out, and she could not bear to think of Severus being similarly afflicted again, even though she did not know what that particular punishment involved. She had heard Selwyn say that Severus had also been punished on that night that now seemed so long ago.

Dumbledore seemed to garner her thoughts and he tried to reassure her that if Severus was punished at all for his late arrival, it would not be too severe as he was too valuable to Voldemort. But of course, Erin couldn’t stand the thought of him being punished at all. Who in the hell was this wizard? Why did his servants suffer so at his hands if they were supposed to be on the same side? And what had made this man so unimaginably evil?

Harry moaning in his sleep pulled Erin from her anxious thoughts and her head snapped towards him. She breathed a sigh of relief when he just turned onto his side, drawing his knees up towards his chest. She continued to stare at the young man who had not settled into this peaceful sleep until after Severus had been gone for two hours. Though Erin had not allowed Harry to sleep uninterrupted; Severus had instructed her to wake him every half hour…a precaution to make sure that he could be woken.

She had been told to make sure that he was aware enough to answer some basic questions: What is your name? How old are you? Where do you go to school? Who am I? When Voldemort’s attack had stopped, Harry’s conscious state had been just as sluggish as she had witnessed it being when they had first come to the Burrow. But over the last four hours, it had been easier to rouse him and his answers had been more coherent. He was irritable at being woken, but Severus had told her that she could expect this.

Sighing, Erin threw herself back down in the chair that Dumbledore had conjured for her just before he had left Harry in her sole care. She had not wanted to lie on the other bed—she had not wanted to doze—but Dumbledore had insisted that she would be too uncomfortable if she just perched on the edge of the bed for hours on end. That had been Erin’s first intimation that Severus could be gone for an extended period of time.

Erin reached forward and brushed Aidan’s soft brown hair away from his forehead. She was pleased to see that he registered her light touch; he raised his hand to brush hers away. But not before Erin saw that the jagged scar that had appeared on Aidan’s normally blemish free forehead had disappeared again.

Erin rubbed her finger over the place where the scar had been visible. She had concluded a while back that Voldemort must have given Harry that scar during an unsuccessful attempt to murder him, and that somehow, some kind of magical connection had been forged between the young boy and the evil monster through the scar. No one had told her yet why Voldemort was determined to kill Harry. Harry was at the root of everything and Erin had yet to find out why.

The soft snick of the lock opening had Erin's eyes focusing on the door as it was slowly pushed open. Ginny Weasley poked her face around the edge, her eyes unerringly finding Harry’s recumbent form before they found Erin. Erin smiled a welcome, a silent invitation for Ginny to enter. She came and stood beside Erin, gazing down at the peacefully sleeping boy.

“He’s a lot better,” said Erin, her voice pitched so as not to disturb Harry. Ginny smiled her acknowledgement of Erin’s words but she didn’t speak; she just kept her gaze on the figure in the bed. Erin patted the other bed, inviting the young girl to sit down.

“I take it that you and your brother are good friends of Harry’s,” said Erin, hoping that she might be able to get Ginny talking. She might be able to learn some of the things that Severus and Professor Dumbledore had carefully omitted telling her.

Ginny perched on the very edge of the bed, looking as if she might bolt at any moment. She kept her eyes focused on Harry as she spoke. “Ron is Harry’s best friend, along with Hermione…Hermione Granger. They’ve known each other since their first year at Hogwarts. I’m a year behind them at school, so we don’t really hang around together.”

From the young girl’s fixated gaze and from the slightly wistful tone in her voice, Erin was sure that Ginny Weasley would very much like to hang around with Harry Potter. She had a giant-sized crush on her brother’s best friend and even looking at a total stranger where she should have been seeing Harry did nothing to lessen her anguish on Harry’s behalf.

“Well, I’m sure that Harry considers you a good friend,” assured Erin, though she knew nothing of the sort. “It’s obvious from the fact that this was our destination all along that your family must be close to Harry.”

Ginny shrugged. “We’re friends,” she admitted in a defeated little voice.

Erin thought fast, trying to think of a way to bring up the subject of Harry’s history. She wasn’t even sure that Ginny would know enough of it to appease her curiosity. “So…”she said carefully, “you’ve known Harry for how long?”

Ginny glanced at Erin quickly. “I first saw him at King’s Cross when I went with Mum to the station to see the boys onto the Hogwarts’ Express. Mum showed Harry how to get onto platform nine and three-quarters.”

Erin must have looked totally bewildered, because Ginny explained about the platform that appeared magically when witches and wizards walked through a seemingly solid barrier that divided platforms nine and ten, and about the gleaming scarlet steam-engine that transported students to and from Hogwarts.

“So, it’s like this platform is in another dimension?” said Erin trying very hard to envision the scene and marvelling that she would ever say something like ‘in another dimension', and not be talking about some science-fiction film.

Now Ginny looked confused. “N-oo. It’s really there. Muggles just can’t see it. It’s like the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron—that’s a pub in London that you have to go through to get into Diagon Alley…” Ginny trailed off biting her lip, worried that she was making the explanation more complicated. But Erin was smiling.

“I’ve been to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley!” she said. “I couldn’t see it from Charring Cross Road, but like this house and the castle, once I was inside, I could see it all clearly.”

“There’s a spell that makes the Leaky Cauldron invisible to Muggle eyes, but platform nine and three-quarters is hidden behind the barrier. The Burrow and Hogwarts have a Charm on them that makes them appear to be ruins and it makes the Muggles need to go and attend to urgent business elsewhere when they get to the edge of the Charms protection.”

Erin was shaking her head. “It still amazes me what you magical folk can do,” said Erin, perfectly truthfully, and Ginny smiled. “But you were saying about Harry?”

Strangely, Ginny blushed. “Well, that was the first time that I saw Harry. When I found out it was Harry Potter after the twins had helped him get his trunk onto the train, I acted like an idiot, whingeing about wanting to get onto the train to see him again.” Her blush had intensified and she was looking at her agitated fingers and she clasped and unclasped them. “I was only ten,” she mumbled.

“What was so special about Harry that you wanted to see him again?” asked Erin carefully. Ginny raised astonished brown eyes to her face.

“Well, because he was Harry Potter.”

“So…”

“He was famous! He is famous. Everyone in the wizarding world knows about Harry Potter and how he survived the killing curse and defeated He Who Must Not Be Named.”

Erin’s mouth dropped open in shock. “The Killing Curse?” she croaked.

“No-one else has ever survived the Killing Curse,” explained Ginny and her eyes rested on Aidan again. “And most people thought that He Who Must Not Be Named was dead; they thought that a little baby had killed him.” Ginny’s voice dropped to an incredulous whisper. “But he wasn’t dead. He just no longer had a body, and his spirit or whatever it was had to flee. But now he’s back.” Erin had to strain her incredulous ears to even hear the last sentence at all.

This had to be a fairytale! Even in the magical world, such things couldn’t happen, surely. Spirits fleeing! A person who was reduced to a spirit somehow, had now reappeared as a living person again! How was that possible? And so she asked, “How?” in the same tiny voice that Ginny had used.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” responded Ginny. “But I do know that Harry was transported away when he touched the cup during the last task of the Tri-Wizard tournament, and that he was tortured by He Who Must Not Be Named and his blood was used in a potion that gave him back his body. And the Killing Curse was used against Harry again.” Erin stared, appalled, at the young girl, noting the progress of tears down her pretty young face.

“He’s been through so much,” Ginny added, her little voice infinitely sad and Erin realised that Ginny Weasley’s feelings for Harry extended way beyond a crush. She didn’t have a tissue to offer the young girl but it didn’t matter; Ginny dashed the tears away with her fingers.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing embarrassedly at Erin. “But he’s just lost Sirius…Sirius Black, his Godfather, after all of that horror last year, starting with the dementor attack, and he was treated like dirt by most of the school for the whole year because so few people believed him and Dumbledore that He Who Must Not Be Named was back, and Umbridge was practically torturing him and she was going to use the Cruciatus Curse on him…”

Ginny trailed off when Erin reached across and squeezed her pyjama clad knee. “Umm, Ginny…most of this is going over my head. I'm lost.”

“Sorry,” said Ginny again, rubbing her tight cheeks where she had smeared the salty tears a few seconds ago.

Erin tried to gather her thoughts, tried to arrange the information that Ginny had given her. There was so much that she needed to know…so much more than she could ever have imagined she needed to know. “How old was Harry when Voldemort tried to kill Harry the first time?” she asked first off.

“Just over a year old,” said Ginny, and Erin’s mouth dropped open. Ginny looked at her. “He should have been killed, but all that happened was that he ended up with the scar on his forehead.”

“Where were his parents?” asked Erin, more appalled than she had been throughout the whole recital.

Ginny stared at her. “They were killed trying to protect Harry.”

Erin shut her eyes as the nightmare that was Harry’s life washed over her. It was so much worse than she could possibly have imagined. And the fact that Petunia Dursley had so patently hated her nephew and allowed her husband to dole out his vicious abuse when her own sister had been murdered, defied comprehension. Erin opened her eyes and she and Ginny both stared at the sleeping boy, both envisioning the black hair and thin face rather than what they were actually seeing.

And just where, in view of this whole tragic history, did Severus’s dislike and disdain for Harry spring from?

She was pulled from these musings when Ginny spoke again, her voice stronger than it had been. “I don’t want you to think that I only like Harry because he’s famous. I was a little girl when I first saw him and I'd heard his story so many times, I was excited to see him. Then I actually met Harry and I grew to like him because he’s a really lovely person, and not because he’s The Boy Who Lived.”

Erin smiled and squeezed Ginny’s knee reassuringly. “I’m sure Harry likes you too Ginny, because from what I’ve seen, you’re a really lovely person too.”

8888

Erin didn’t have the nerve to wring anymore information out of Ginny; she didn’t think she could stand to hear more in case there was even worse to relate. But even if she had wanted to pick her brains further, the opportunity was lost when the door opened again to admit Molly. A tray preceded her into the room, but both the tray and Molly, her wand aloft, stopped short at the sight of Ginny.

“Ginny, what are you doing up at this hour?” Erin was relieved to hear that the formidable Molly Weasley did not sound angry, quite the contrary in fact. She took the few steps necessary to reach her daughter’s side—the tray staying ahead of her. Molly guided the tray past Erin so that it came to rest on the chest of drawers behind her, before she thrust her wand into her dressing gown pocket and sat down next to her daughter. Erin would have moved out of her chair to give Molly more room—it was rather a squeeze between the beds where her chair was squashed—but Molly’s somewhat plump figure prevented such a move.

Molly pulled her daughter, who had tears streaming down her face again, into her arms, rubbing the slender back and crooning comforting words in her ear. “Harry will be all right, Ginny. He’s too strong to allow this latest setback to bring him down.”

Ginny nodded into her mother’s neck. After a few seconds, she gathered her frayed emotions together and stepped back. Molly fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to her daughter. “Now off to bed, young lady. It’s one thirty in the morning. Harry is being well looked after.”

Erin managed to smile and wish Ginny goodnight, though she was reeling from the surprise of Molly’s final words. Had their actually been approbation in the woman’s tone? Certainly the words had sounded approving. After the door had shut, Molly stared at it for several seconds before she turned back, her wand in hand again to levitate the tray to stop in front of Erin.

She removed one of the two large tea cups and held it whilst she lowered the tray onto Erin’s lap. “I thought you might need a drink and…” she indicated a covered plate, “…something to eat. You missed dinner.” When Molly removed the cover, the delicious aroma of meat, vegetables, herbs, spices and butter-rich pastry assailed Erin’s nostrils and her mouth immediately began to water.

Erin looked up at Molly and smiled. “Thank you, Molly. This is very kind of you.” Molly lowered herself onto the end of the bed again and waved away the thanks.

“Tosh,” she said. “You’re dedication to Harry’s needs is all the thanks I need.” She raised her cup to her lips and took a deep swallow of the burgundy liquid within while she watched with satisfaction as Erin picked up a fork and sliced through the delicious looking pastry and succulent filling. She had never tasted anything as delicious in the whole of her life and she shut her eyes in ecstasy. Molly allowed Erin to finish off the large portion of pie and begin to sip her tea before she spoke again.

“I want to apologise for my behaviour earlier today, Erin. I did not comport myself in the manner I have always tried to teach my children they should adopt towards guests.” She stood and relieved Erin of the tray, which she put on the floor near the door. Instead of sitting down again, she remained standing and gazed down at the young boy who was visually a stranger, but whom her heart told her was Harry.

She had seen Harry curled up like this often enough when she stuck her head in late at night to check all was well. Arthur had told her that one day she might see one of her sons doing something she wouldn’t want to see if she kept on checking that all was well with young men well endowed with raging hormones, but Molly had been unable to break the habit. Her concession to preserving her sons’ modesty was listening at the door until she was certain no sounds issued from within.

“My only excuse is that I have been so worried about Harry ever since we learned about what happened from Albus, and then we were unable to see him because he was whisked away with Severus and yourself.” Molly looked at Erin, who had now risen from her chair to stand next to the older woman. “That was a worry in itself because Severus and Harry do not have a very happy history together.”

Erin tried to project the attitude that Molly’s worries had been for nought, but she was not sure that she had succeeded. She was relieved when Molly didn’t pursue the subject of Severus’ and Harry’s rocky relationship. It seemed the older woman was genuine in her desire not to resume hostilities, which was all to the good because Erin was not in the mood to listen to anyone who might be inclined to insult Severus. She turned towards the window again and looked out across the dark garden. She was desperate to see Severus standing at the property boundary awaiting admission to the Burrow, but even if he was there, she would not have been able to see him. The night was pitch-black.

“When Severus comes back, how will he be able to get past the protection?” she asked, still staring out at the night.

“He will report to Albus first, at Hogwarts. Then he will be able to Floo here directly from Albus’s office. That is the only direct Floo connection to here now, and Albus is the only one who can open the connection from that end.”

Erin could only nod. She had a mad desire to laugh at the fact that she had actually understood Molly’s explanation. It now seemed almost normal, that she knew about things such as Floo connections and magical protection and Hogwarts. That she could see trays floating through the air without blinking her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

Fatigue and worry for both Harry and Severus were finally catching up with her and the horrible events of the day washed over her in a wave of misery that had her bursting into tears and dropping her face into her hands. In a flash, it seemed, Molly had her in her arms much as she had done with Ginny earlier. And Erin let herself go.

And when Molly said quietly, “You care for Severus, don’t you?” Erin sobbed all the harder. Molly soothed her as Erin’s own mother would have done if she had been here. Erin tried, but she couldn’t stop crying, not until a croaky voice had Molly and her springing apart. Harry was leaning against the headboard, staring at the two of them through eyes that no longer had a bleary, unfocused look. His forehead was creased with worry though.

“What’s wrong?” asked Harry for the second time. His voice was anxious and his gaze moved between Erin and Mrs Weasley, and when Erin threw her arms around him and burst into more tears, those blue eyes looked positively terrified as they found a misty-eyed Mrs Weasley over Erin’s heaving shoulder.

“Mrs Weasley, what’s wrong?” he asked for the third time, his voice a little more high-pitched as his anxiety surged. “Where’s Professor Snape?”

“You’ve been sick, Harry, dear. You hit your head and you’ve got a concussion.” Molly gently clasped Erin’s heaving shoulders and pried her off Harry. “Erin dear, you’re frightening him.”

Erin sniffed inelegantly and Molly fished for her wand while patting her on the back. She pointed the wand at the used paper serviette on the tray and transfigured it into a clean square of soft cotton which she levitated to where Erin could take it and mop up the tears. Erin kept her back turned towards Harry, who was still looking extremely worried and scared while she tried to repair the damage the tears had wrought.

Molly approached Harry and pulled him against her for a hug before holding him at arms length and studying him minutely. “How are you feeling, dear?”

“Fine,” said Harry automatically, but at Molly’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “Mostly fine. I’ve got a bit of a headache, but nothing that I can’t handle. How long have I been here?”

“You arrived at about four PM. It’s two-thirty AM now.”

“And I’ve been out of it all that time?” exclaimed Harry, appalled. He looked past Molly to Erin. “What happened to me? And how did we get here so fast. I thought we still had another day of travel.”

Erin took a deep breath, balling the handkerchief in her hand. “Because you were hurt, Harry, Severus and I decided that we needed to get you somewhere where you could be looked after properly. Severus summoned Professor Dumbledore and he told Severus to Apparate here with you, and Professor Dumbledore bought me after he banished the car.”

Erin had to know. “Do you remember what happened to you?” Harry gazed off into space for a moment, but then he shook his head.

“I remember the hotel and driving for hours after we left it, but then everything is a blank.”

“You don’t even remember the restaurant, or going off to the loo by yourself?”

Harry shook his head and scratched his neck. “So what happened? Did Death Eaters find us?”

“No,” said Erin, thankful that the whole episode with that terrible man was a blank sheet for Harry, but feeling a little hollow develop in her stomach at the thought of lying to him. “You apparently slipped in a puddle of water in the bathroom, hit you cheek on the sink on your way down and then smashed your head on the floor. Severus found you unconscious.”

Aidan’s eyes were wide when Erin stopped talking and he shook his head in disbelief, his hand clapped to his forehead. “Merlin, take me off a broom and I need a keeper!”

Erin bit her lip. “Do you know how many accidents happen in the bathroom, Harry, because of spilt water on the tiles?” She was desperate to make Harry feel a little better about his supposed clumsiness.

“Errr, no,” answered Harry. “How many?”

“I think the question was rhetorical, Harry,” said Molly. “Now dear, would you like something to eat?”

Harry might have forgotten the incident that had precipitated his latest foray into ill health, but no hit on the head could make him forget Mrs Weasley’s cooking. After she had bustled out of the room, Erin began to fuss around, straightening the bedclothes.

“Why were you crying?” asked Harry, eyeing her with a very knowing expression. “I know it wasn’t just because of me. Where’s Professor Snape?”

Erin bit her lip. She really didn’t want to tell Harry that Severus had been summoned. She had not known him long, but Erin knew that he would stress. She had seen enough of Harry in the wizarding world to know that he blamed himself for anything that happened that was to do with Voldemort. She didn’t have to say anything though; Harry was rubbing the spot where his scar would have been visible if he still didn’t have Aidan’s face.

“My scar is prickling, and as Snape isn’t here with you, I suppose he’s been summoned.” And without waiting for confirmation, Harry added, “How long has he been gone?”

8888

While Harry was being plied with food and fluids at the Weasley’s, Severus Flooed into Dumbledore’s office from the Shrieking Shack. He had stayed for a few minutes in the shack to try and heal some of the more serious injuries that had been inflicted upon him by a very unhappy Dark Lord. He had trouble applying the Dittany to the open, bleeding wounds, even the ones that he could reach easily, because his post-Cruciatus tremors were so bad.

His arrival in Albus’s office was much less fluid than it normally was; he actually fell to his knees when he tried to step from the flames. Albus was there in a flash to help Severus to his feet and guide him—surprisingly—to a stool instead of the chintz-covered chair. What made the ignominy worse was that he actually did not brush the assistance off; he needed the help.

“My God!” bit out Albus as he took in Severus’s bruised and battered face, the right eye of which was swollen shut. He began to putter around, opening cabinet doors and putting bottles and jars on the desk along with a large roll of cotton wool. Severus watched through his open eye, and if it wouldn’t hurt so much, he would have frowned.

“What are you doing, old man?” he asked and then he winced and hissed with pain as the cut on his bottom lip opened up again and began to bleed. He tentatively probed the wound with his tongue, grimacing at the coppery taste of blood.

“After the last time you came back this badly injured, I decided that I would be prepared for the next time. But first of all…” Albus crossed to his drink's cabinet and poured two glasses of Ogden’s, one of which he held up to Fawkes to contribute a couple of tears. He didn’t even appear to make a request of the bird.

As Severus had once before benefited from the remarkable curative powers of those tears, he made no comment, but accepted the proffered drink without hesitation and raised the glass to his swollen and split lips. He tensed for the painful sting of the strong alcohol on the open wound, but it never happened. The Phoenix tears obviously countered the alcohol. When he had slugged the shot back, he knew that his lip had turned to its normal proportions and that the cut was healed. And his tremors had stopped as if they had never been, along with them, the memory of the excruciating pain.

“Remove your robes and your shirt,” ordered Dumbledore and when Severus opened his mouth to argue that he could now take care of his own injuries, Dumbledore just pointed his wand and banished the robes. Severus’s exclamation of rage was ignored and when he would have leapt to his feet, Albus just pointed his wand at the battered chest, the look on the old face enough to warn Severus not to test his mentor’s patience any further.

With his patient’s compliance guaranteed, Albus poured some Dittany into a small bowl. He then turned to Fawkes again and held the bowl up. Severus thought Dumbledore might be pushing his luck, but Fawkes tilted his head to the side and Severus heard two distinct plops as two tears joined the small amount of liquid in the bottom of the bowl.

Severus seethed as Albus began his ministrations, but he couldn’t help a sigh of relief escaping his tightly compressed lips when the stinging and smarting of the various injuries on his face and torso eased and then disappeared entirely.

“Talk to me,” ordered Albus and as he continued with his task, Severus talked.

“Overall, he was in a very good mood, he and the rest of his minions. The Brockdale Bridge collapse was tremendous fun. And…” Here, Severus paused because he knew that he was going to cause considerable distress to his employer. He had been hard-pressed to hide his own emotions when he had found out why Harry had suffered the scar pain in the car and then later in the hotel.

“And?” said Dumbledore, and he stopped applying the Dittany and Phoenix tear concoction; he knew what a pause in Severus Snape, master spy’s narrative meant…he was about to hear something that was going to have a personal impact on him.

“And…Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones are both dead.”

Dumbledore groaned and shut his eyes, swaying a little in his shock. Severus jumped up and took the old man’s arm and guided him into the chintz chair. Now he became the carer. He left Albus with his face hidden in his hand before cursorily cleaning and mending his shirt and shrugging it on over his almost completely healed back and chest. He eschewed buttoning it for the moment. Instead, he picked up Dumbledore’s almost untouched drink and pressed it into his boss’s shaking hand, guiding it to his mouth.

“Drink it all,” he ordered and Dumbledore did just that before slumping back into the chair, looking very old and somehow diminished.

“How?” he whispered.

Severus shook his head. “You don’t want to know.” His own cast iron stomach had heaved when he had watched Yaxley’s memories of the two horrific murders. Yaxley was being a friend, thinking that Severus, who usually missed out on the good stuff, would want to see how the two women had been disposed of. “They’re both in their homes, awaiting discovery.”

“My God,” groaned Dumbledore. “They were murdered the day before yesterday and no-one has realised that they are gone. I will have to organise some form of daily communication for the Order members so that I know that they are alive and…” His voice trailed off and he covered his eyes again, trying to hide his grief. Severus strode to Albus’s cabinet where the old man had stored the illicit stash of potions that had been pilfered from Severus's own private stock. He was looking for a potion to counteract shock. But before he could find the distinctive green phial, Fawkes launched himself from his perch and with outstretched wings, he soared across the room to land on his human’s shoulder.

Otherworldly, beautiful music flowed from the bird’s beak and permeated both Severus and Dumbledore’s beings, immediately lifting their moods out of the bleak place the murders of the two women had plunged them. Dumbledore reached up and scratched the handsome scarlet head of his Phoenix.

“Thank you Fawkes,” he said, his voice much stronger than it had been. Fawkes trilled another three liquid golden notes and then launched himself into the air again, soaring up the staircase towards, Severus presumed, Albus’s bedroom.

With a deep sigh, Albus made a move to pry himself out of his chair but Severus put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Albus looked up into the younger man’s strained features. He slumped back and closed his eyes. “What else?”

Severus squeezed the bony shoulder in affirmation.

“The reason you were treated so harshly?”

“No,” said Severus. “I was punished because I had no news of Harry; I have not made enough of an effort to locate the boy and bring him to the Dark Lord.”

Albus looked up. Severus had begun to pace about the room, doing up his shirt as he walked. When he spoke again, his voice was even more grim than it had been when he had relayed the news of Emmeline and Amelia’s murders. “So, he has hit upon what he feels is a fool-proof plan to get Harry to come to him.”

Albus felt a deep sense of foreboding. “Tell me,” he said.

“Today, a Muggle boy was kidnapped. A boy who will turn sixteen on the thirty-first of July.” Dumbledore paled because he knew that the kidnapping of a Muggle boy with the same birthday as Harry’s could not be the worst of it. And sure enough…

“Another fifteen boys with that birthday are targeted, and one will be kidnapped every day until the thirty-first. On the thirty-first, if Harry has not handed himself over, all sixteen will be killed. The Dark Lord is not entirely happy with this plan though...he feels that the impact on the wizarding world would be so much more shocking if the boys were wizards. But unfortunately for him, only one wizard was born on July thirty-one, sixteen years ago in Britain.”

Feeling sick to his stomach throughout the whole of the recitation of the Dark Lord's imperfect plan, Severus none-the-less relayed the whole in his usual emotionless voice; he found it helped to at least keep up an appearance of indifference. As Dumbledore’s face darkened with terrible fury, Severus felt a shiver of trepidation course down his spine. Here was the only one that the Dark Lord feared.

Dumbledore launched himself out of his chair and strode about the room. “And how,” he asked in a voice that shook, “is he planning on getting this message to Harry?”

“He will force the Prophet to print the challenge. That way, the whole of the wizarding world will know that if Harry does not hand himself over to the Dark Lord, sixteen innocent teenagers will die.”

Dumbledore had stopped behind his desk. He leaned on his knuckles and his eyes blazed as he glared at Severus. “It would be foolish in the extreme for me to hope that you saw the list of boy’s names and addresses?”

“He and the Death Eaters involved most closely with this scheme are not sharing with the rest of us. Nor were any of the rest of us told where the first boy is being held. Albus glared for several seconds more, then with a long-suffering sigh, he lowered his head between his hunched shoulders. “Then we must ensure that Harry does not see the Prophet, nor hear of this plan.”

It was only seven-thirty, but Molly looked up from her preparations of Arthur’s breakfast when she heard the roar of the Floo.

Who on Earth?

She bustled towards the door to the living room, but she heard Arthur’s voice before she got there, and then Albus answering him. When she did reach the doorway, it was to see Albus and Arthur speaking in low tones, and Severus stepping out of the fireplace.

“How is Harry this morning?” she heard Albus ask.

“He’s much, much better.” It was Molly who answered. “He woke up very early this morning and appears to be back to normal. He’s still asleep now, though. So is Erin, finally… I peeked in before coming downstairs.”

Severus’s brows drew together.

“She had a lot on her mind last night,” continued Molly. “What, with one thing and another.” She could see that Severus was looking rather weary and she also noticed a slight discolouration around his right eye, even in the dim morning light in the living room. It seemed that Erin’s worries for Severus had not been baseless; she had a horrible feeling that the poor man had suffered at the hands of He Who Must Not Be Named, last night.

And suddenly Molly felt a terrible foreboding. Both Severus and Dumbledore looked exceedingly downcast; even though Albus smiled a greeting at her, he looked unusually sombre.

“Ah, Molly, that is good news.” Dumbledore said. “A resilient young man is our Mr Potter. I am sorry to appear so early on your hearthrug, but Severus and I have important matters to discuss and we would like to speak to you before the children arise.”

And then, out of the blue, Dumbledore asked, “Has your newspaper arrived yet?”

Molly looked totally bewildered, but she answered in the affirmative, “Err, yes. It came about fifteen minutes ago.” She gestured towards the kitchen. She led the way and Albus swooped upon the Daily Prophet where it was lying beside Arthur’s place setting.

“Perhaps you would be so kind as to summon Bill for us, Molly,” said Dumbledore, unrolling the newspaper. “I think he should hear this. But please don’t allow any of the children down.”

“What has happened?” asked Molly, her face paling.

Arthur put a reassuring arm around Molly’s shoulders and kissed her on the head. “Just get Bill, Molly love. Then Albus will explain all.” He picked up the industrial-sized teapot and carried it to the stove, filling it with boiling water. Molly looked from one serious face to the other, but then she put the tea-towel she was clutching over the back of a chair and hurried past Severus who stepped aside for her to pass him.

“I’m going to check on Potter,” said Severus and without waiting for a response, he strode after Molly. Arthur brought the teapot to the table and set it on a mat. He began to twirl the pot to settle the leaves.

“I would say that Severus did not fare particularly well at the hands of He Who Must Not Be Named, last night,” he said, but when there was no answer from Dumbledore, he looked up from his task. “Albus?”

Albus was reading the paper and Arthur was shocked to see the old face set in lines of intense fury. Arthur let go of the teapot and straightened his thin frame, foreboding creeping over him as it had done Molly minutes before.

“What is it Albus? I know you didn’t come here just to read my copy of the Prophet. What is it that you were expecting to find?”

Albus didn’t answer. He just held out the paper and with some trepidation, Arthur took it. One glance and his face paled, then he steeled himself and sinking into a chair, he read the story underneath the banner headline: SAVE THE MUGGLES, HARRY! and then the smaller headline: WILL BOY WHO LIVED SACRIFICE SELF FOR 16 TEENS?

8888

On the landing, Severus put his hand on the doorknob, only to have it wrenched from his grip when the door was pulled open. A tousle-haired, dishevelled Erin, eyes three-quarters closed, crashed straight into Severus. The shock of the impact had her eyes flying open, and she only had time to register the tall, dark man with the pale face before he swooped and her lips were no longer her own.

Severus couldn’t help himself. At one stage last night, he had thought he might never see Erin again, and this assault on her mouth was as much profound relief as it was a reaffirmation of how much she had come to mean to him over the last nine days. How could he have become so dependent on her in such a short space of time?

Erin didn’t even start in surprise. In the infinitesimal time before Severus swooped, she had recognised him; but quite apart from that, she would have known his smell and the taste and feel of him anywhere. With a little sob, she raised her arms and wrapped them tightly around Severus’s neck, melting against his tall, slender frame and revelling in his dominance over her mouth.

Severus shuffled to the side of the open doorway so that he could press Erin against the wall…he needed to be closer to her; he needed to feel her against him from knees to lips because who knew when he would feel her pressed close to him again. The wall acted as a counter-force and Erin moaned into his mouth and revelled in the fact that she was totally and wonderfully encircled by black. Severus’s fragrant, newly-washed black hair swung around her face as he continued to plunder her mouth; his voluminous black robes practically enveloped her.

Severus nearly went insane as the feel of the outline of Erin’s body impinged upon his consciousness. The small landing they were standing upon was not the place to allow his body to over-rule his head. Nor was it the time. With a groan of pure frustration, instead of grinding his pelvis into hers as he wanted to do so desperately, he eased back to allow a sliver of daylight between their bodies. He should have let her go entirely, but found he couldn’t forego the comfort of at least kissing her…allowing her to see how much she meant to him. He raised his hands and framed Erin’s face with his long fingers. He released her mouth to pepper desperate kisses across her face…her forehead, her closed eyelids, her cheeks and the defined line of her jaw.

Erin moaned her appreciation of all this attention. When Severus decided to make a meal of her throat, she lifted her chin as far as the wall behind her head would allow, to give him easier access. She fisted her hands into the shoulders of Severus’s robes and suddenly, the fact that he was there, that he was alive and well and making her knees go weak struck her anew. A little sob escaped her throat and tears squeezed from between her closed eyelids.

It took a few seconds, but Severus finally realised that ecstasy seemed to have turned to distress for Erin. He lifted his head, a frown marring his forehead. Erin, embarrassed, raised a shaky hand to her face to hide her tears, but Severus pulled it away gently. He kissed her wet eyelids and cheeks. But when her tears continued unabated, he desisted and looked at her with concern. She tried to lower her head to hide her face, but Severus prevented her doing it by placing his fingers under her chin. He brushed at the wetness on her cheeks with the fingers of his other hand, before raising it further and threading his fingers into a thick lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead and pushing it back gently.

Finally, with a shuddering breath, Erin quieted. She opened her still-swimming eyes and looked into Severus’s face; a face whose expression held such a wealth of worry and gentleness, it was almost impossible for her to even picture the nasty, sour expression that she had first seen upon it. His face, in all its moods had become so very dear to her in such a short space of time.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a croaky whisper. She brushed her fingers over his lips to wipe her own tears away. “I didn’t mean to get you all wet.”

“I didn’t know that I was so very bad at kissing,” said Severus, a slight smile quirking one corner of his mouth upwards.

He managed to make Erin smile for real, even though it was a wobbly excuse for one. She swatted his shoulder. “You know very well that you kiss perfectly adequately, Professor Snape.”

Severus raised his eyebrow. “Perfectly adequately? High praise indeed!’

Erin’s smile disappeared and she leaned her forehead against his black-robed chest. “I was so frightened, Sev.” she whispered. “I’ve seen what that man—or animal, or creature…whatever he is—is capable of. I've seen what he can do to Harry when he isn’t even near him. I know what he ordered done to Privet Drive!”

Severus wrapped his arms tightly around Erin, marvelling again at the fact that someone other than Dumbledore was so worried about his welfare. He could feel his heart swell; the slight tremor he could feel assaulting Erin’s muscles, the huskiness of her voice and the overflowing tears were added proof of just how much emotion Erin had wrapped up in him. This, added to the passion that he knew he could evoke, made Severus’s hopes soar into the stratosphere. She had said it, but added proof of the strength of her feelings for him made him feel renewed, and, dare he even think it, totally, blissfully happy. It had been so long since Severus had actually felt happy, the lightness of spirit and mind that feeling produced was totally foreign to him…but oh, so very welcome.

He didn’t tell her that he himself had been worried that he might never see her again…he did not want to add to her distress.

“I have been doing this for a very long time, Erin. You don…”

Erin pushed her clenched fists against Severus’s chest, forcing him back a step as she looked up at him with a fierce look on her face. “Don’t tell me that I don’t need to worry.” She reached up and gently touched the ill-disguised shadow around his eye. “And don’t tell me that you got this by walking into a door. You’re not that clumsy, Severus. And I know how good you lot are at healing, so I’m sure that you had other injuries to show for your night’s work. Did he use that horrible curse on you that that Selwyn man had been subjected to?”

Severus put his own head back and took a deep breath. “Erin…”

“Tell me!”

“I am perfectly…”

“Tell me, Severus!”

Erin could see all too clearly that Severus wasn’t going to easily talk about his experiences with the man they called the Dark Lord. But if she was going to be a part of his life—and until she could get him to stop this mad game that he played—then she was going to make him talk about it. She opened her mouth to again exhort him to talk, but Severus broke in.

“Not here.” He indicated the landing. “They’re waiting downstairs. There are…things to discuss. I promise to talk to you when we’re alone without any worry of being interrupted.”

Erin eyed him warily. “I won’t forget,” she said warningly.

Severus kissed her on the forehead. “I know you won’t. Redheads are very determined.”

Erin raised her eyebrows. “Really? And you know this because…”

Severus could have kicked himself. He most definitely did not want to go there. “It is the general perception, is it not? Now…” Severus kissed her again…this time a lingering one on her swollen and tender lips, before he stepped aside and entered the open door to approach the occupied bed. “How is Potter?”

Erin rubbed the last of the tears from her cheeks and followed him. She lowered her voice so as not to wake the sleeping boy. “Harry awoke independently at about one-thirty this morning, perfectly rational. He’s been easily rousable since then. He has, however, been preoccupied and worried.”

Severus frowned as he gazed at the messy brown hair which was all he could see of the top of Aidan’s head. He too spoke in lowered tones. “Preoccupied and worried about what? He hasn’t recalled…”

“No…” said Erin before Severus could elucidate, just in case Harry was roused by their voices. “He quickly realised that you had been summoned…his scar was still prickling. He was, not to put too fine a point on it, very worried.”

Severus looked slightly alarmed. Had the boy perhaps had more visions, such as those he had had the night Arthur had been attacked by Nagini? No, of course he hadn’t. Severus knew that if Harry had any knowledge of the Dark Lord’s diabolical plan, then he would not be sleeping so peacefully now.

“How long ago did you awaken him last?”

“I’ve let him sleep since five-thirty. He seems perfectly fine now.”

Severus watched the gentle rise and fall of the covers for several seconds, pleased to see that Harry’s breathing was no longer rapid and shallow, but deep and even. Satisfied, he took Erin’s arm and led her back onto the landing. “Come, they will be waiting.”

Erin pulled her arm out of Severus’s grip. “I can’t go down there looking like this.” She indicated her dishevelled appearance. “I need to go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

Severus sighed and pulled out his wand. With a flourish, he moved it in the air in front of Erin. She felt a waft of fresh air and when she looked down, she saw that her jeans and top were now wrinkle-free. She caught another movement of that amazing stick in her side vision and she felt another breeze riffling across her tear-sticky face and through her hair. Her face now felt clean and dry and an explorative touch of her hand told her that her hair no longer looked like a birch broom in a fit.

She smiled saucily and reached up to kiss Severus on the lips. He was looking smugly pleased with himself. “Thank you oh, powerful one. You have done well.” She moved her mouth to his ear and whispered, “But as clever as you are, I still need to go to the loo. There’s nothing you can do about that!”

Severus smirked down at her. “Actually…”

Erin put her hands over her ears and hurried down the stairs. “I don’t want to know!” she said and the sound of Severus’s chuckle followed her into the bathroom on the lower landing.

8888

When Severus entered the kitchen again, he was not particularly pleased to see that the round-table conference would not just consist of the adult Weasleys, himself, Albus and Erin. Lupin, Moody, Kingsley and Nymphadora were all sitting around the table and partaking of tea and toast. The open expression that had remained on his face after he had left Erin, now disappeared to be replaced with his habitual scowl.

Moody looked up and saw Severus, his own scowl rivalling the younger mans, but Kingsley, Remus and Tonks all smiled with varying degrees of welcome…Lupin seemed pleased to see him (Merlin knew why), as did Kingsley, and Tonks grinned in her habitually cheeky fashion. Severus had always wanted to slap that cheeky little smirk off the Metamorphagus’ face when she was his student, but that not being an option, he had given her more detentions than anyone in Hufflepuff had ever received…before, during or since her tenure at the school.

Bill Weasley nodded to Severus from his position near the stove. He held up an empty cup and Severus nodded in response to Bill’s raised eyebrow enquiry as to whether he wanted tea.

“So, Snape,” barked Moody nastily, “One hell of a party you and your cohorts in crime had last night.”

“Alastor!” said Dumbledore in a tight voice and the battle-scarred Auror looked at his friend and for once, he backed off from his usual needling of Severus. “I refuse to be referee to the pair of you taking chunks out of each others’ hides this morning. We have more important issues to address than your inability to play together in the sandpit.”

Fierce blue eyes moved between the two protagonists. Severus remained silent as he took the cup of tea from Bill but he seethed inwardly. How dare the bloody old coot speak to him as if he was a child. So, he just had to be a well-behaved little boy and put up with bloody Moody’s gruff insinuations, and not retaliate?

Here he was, risking life and limb every time he went anywhere near the Dark Lord, but Moody still preferred to think that he was a fully paid up member of the Death Eater Club. He would never be convinced otherwise until Severus died in the line of duty for Albus and the Order, and then he would probably say that Severus had somehow stuffed up. Severus would rather be locked in the Shrieking Shack for a month with Lupin than spend any time in the company of the Ministry’s most famous ex-Auror.

God, how he hated the bloody old shit!

Everyone else in the room was concentrating on their own beverage, obviously taken aback by Dumbledore’s unusual severity. It was rarely that he spoke to any of them with such a bite in his voice and it was clear that he would not tolerate any behaviour that might distract them from the seriousness of the current situation.

Severus chose to remain standing with Bill. Dumbledore picked up the paper and leaned across to pass it to his spy. “I take it that Harry is more or less recovered from his unfortunate head injury?” he asked.

“He appears to be sleeping normally, and from all that I have been told of his behaviour, the signs are positive, that he is back to normal.” Severus’s voice was stiff. Dumbledore sighed deeply, looking relieved.

Severus put his cup down on the bench and opened the paper. His face tightened when he glanced down at the outsized, malignant headline. The room was silent as he quickly scanned the text. With a disgusted movement, he threw the paper back on the table and swiped his cup up again. If it had not been half empty, liquid would have slopped over his hand. Dumbledore sighed again and turned the paper over so that the front page rested face down and none of them had to look at it.

“Will Erin be joining us, Severus?” he asked in a weary voice. But Severus didn’t have the opportunity to answer before Moody’s insulting growl rent the air again.

“You feel that is wise, Albus?”

Severus bristled and his hand tightened around his cup. He did not get the chance to respond before Albus answered Moody, reverting to his earlier irate tone. “Yes, Alastor, I do. Erin will be of inestimable assistance in keeping Harry unaware of the things that he does not need to become cognizant of. And then there is the distinct possibility that we could end up working at cross-purposes to each other if she is the only adult likely to be around Harry who does not know what is going on.”

“So stick that where the sun don’t shine, Moody!” thought Severus with malicious childishness.

“Erin, dear…come in,” said Molly suddenly, her voice a little louder than it would have been if she had not been trying to cover up the male aggression that tainted the atmosphere.

Severus’s head snapped around towards the doorway where Erin was standing uncertainly, looking more than a little discomposed to be confronted by the largest crowd of magical people she had so far come in contact with. Severus straightened away from the bench, as did Bill. Dumbledore stood, smiling brightly in an attempt to ease Erin’s discomfort at being the cynosure of all eyes; her face reddened even further when Arthur, Kingsley and Remus followed Dumbledore’s gallant example. Moody was the only male in the room still seated and Severus took that for the insult that it was; Moody’s opinion of allowinga Muggle to be included in their discussion did not sit well with him at all. Severus was also sure that the grizzled old Auror was irritated with himself because his oft heard mantra of constant vigilance had gone by the wayside in his desire to be disagreeable, and he had failed to register Erin’s arrival with that foul eye.

Severus smirked inwardly. The battle scarred warrior wasn’t perfect, then?

Tonks had pulled out a chair for Erin, and after nodding a self-conscious welcome to the assembled crowd, Erin returned the younger woman’s smile of greeting as she sat down. She resolutely didn’t look at Severus; she didn’t want to give Mr Moody any more reasons—apart from her being a Muggle who had no right to be involved in wizard’s business—to vent his spleen. She knew she shouldn’t take his sentiments personally, but it wasn’t easy to get past his attitude. Erin was sure that the man wasn’t prejudiced against Muggles per se—his attitude when she had first met him was evidence of that—it was just that he couldn’t conceive of anything useful that she might have to offer.

While Molly bustled around preparing more tea and toast, Dumbledore spoke, his voice returned to its earlier gravity. “I would like to get this discussion over before the children put in an appearance.” He looked at Erin over the top of his spectacles and pushed the paper towards her. “You will need to read this, my dear. I am afraid that it is not pleasant, but you will see what we are up against.

Tonks put her hand on the paper and pushed it the last few inches to where Erin could reach it. Erin picked it up warily, aware that the tension in the room had increased. Molly was very pale and everyone, Severus included, looked remarkably sombre; most were looking anywhere but at Erin…the exceptions were Professor Dumbledore, Moody and Severus. Dumbledore looked resigned, Severus concerned, but Moody still looked disapproving.

Erin turned the paper over and looked down. The mile high headline made her hands tighten around the edges, scrunching up the pages, and as she quickly read the accompanying story, the colour slowly drained from her face. When she had finished, her head snapped up and her haunted eyes locked with Severus’. The black eyes that were often so cold, their twin glares seemed to seer where they touched, were now radiating comfort and reassurance for her alone. The look said that he was not going to let anything happen to Harry if there was anything at all he could do about it.

Erin believed that Severus would do everything in his power to keep Harry safe; he would do it for her. But Erin was sure that Severus would also protect Harry because he didn’t want anything to happen to him; it was second nature for Severus to protect Harry and that habit had, of late, overridden his negative feelings for the young wizard.

“We have a twofold task ahead of us, Erin,” Albus was saying. Erin pulled her gaze away from Severus and focused on the powerful old wizard, who, at the moment looked nothing more than a very tired old man. “We…” he indicated the members of the Order of the Phoenix, “…will be doing everything we can to try and find out where Voldemort is keeping the unfortunate boys he already has captive, hidden, and trying to work out who else he has targeted before they are taken.”

Erin nodded and she felt terrible regret for the poor, nameless and faceless boys who were the hapless pawns of this sick game. But at the moment, her concern was most evident for the boy that she knew and cared for. “How are you going to keep this from Harry?” she asked worriedly. “He’s already feeling guilty about his family and the people who were killed in Privet Drive and when the bridge collapsed.”

“Precisely, my dear. This is where you come in. Harry has become very fond of you since you were both taken from Privet Drive—as I am sure you have of him—so I am relying upon you to keep his mind off what Voldemort may be up to. We will destroy this newspaper of course, and no one will speak of this evil plan within Harry’s hearing, because he will, without question, refuse to sit around and allow these boys to be captured and killed in his place. And as it will be quite out of the question for him to hand himself over if he finds out, we will have to keep him a virtual prisoner.

“You have seen what Harry’s state of mind is…he does not need this added stress and guilt.”

Erin sighed deeply, but she nodded her acquiescence. “Of course I’ll do anything to help protect Harry. But why is this Voldemort character so determined to kill him? Why did he attack him at a year old and kill his parents? How could a child pose any threat to such a powerful wizard?” Erin looked at Severus and saw that he was surprised that Erin knew as much as she did. She was a little peeved that Severus had never felt the need to tell her that Voldemort had tried to kill Harry when he was only a baby.

Erin noticed that practically the whole party got pained expressions upon their faces whenever the name ‘Voldemort’ was mentioned. Dumbledore, who said the name with impunity, did not, nor did Moody, nor Severus. However, Erin realised that though Severus did not cringe at the sound of the name, unlike Dumbledore, she had never heard him say ‘Voldemort’; he always referred to him as the ‘Dark Lord’. What was it about this creature that had even these strong, sensible people cringing at the sound of his name, or else refusing to say it at all?

“That is a very long story and one that we do not have time to get into now,” said Dumbledore. Erin felt irritated. She had lost count of the number of times that she had been told to put her curiosity on hold. Dumbledore correctly interpreted her mutinous expression and he sighed.

“Your questions are certainly relevant, Erin, but the gravity of the current situation means that we cannot waste any time on non-essentials. You will be filled in though, never fear.”

Erin knew that if she wanted answers, then she was going to have to keep on haunting, but she did recognise the gravity of the current situation, and so she desisted asking any more questions at this time.

Over the fifteen minutes, Erin and Molly sat and listened to the conversation that went on around them. Their job was to try to protect Harry…while they were here at the Burrow, Molly would be involved in attempting to keep Harry (and the other teens) oblivious of what was going on in the outside world.

Erin was not happy when she realised that Severus was going to be the vital link in the Order’s plans to try and gather information. Time was of the essence…for all they knew, the second boy could already have been abducted, and Severus had not been told whether the boys were being subjected to torture while the thirty-first of July—their birthday, as well as Harry’s—crept up on them. Severus was, of course, the one who would try to pry information out of Voldemort’s followers, and as even he did not know who was in on the plan, it seemed an impossible, not to mention, highly dangerous task. If Voldemort discovered that he was asking questions about a subject that they had been told to keep mum about, his true allegiance would come to light.

Erin had worked out long ago that this evil man took action and asked questions later. Severus had already intimated that his other boss had suspicions about the presence of a traitor in their midst. Listening to the terse conversation going on around her, it suddenly struck home with force that their really was a war going on in the wizarding world and that Dumbledore and his little band of soldiers were the equivalent of the French Underground during the second world war.

Things became a little heated…Moody niggled at Severus, and Erin was amazed that Severus didn’t pull out his wand and curse the malicious old man. Moody kept on insinuating that Severus couldn’t be trusted, that someone needed to be on Severus’s tail to make sure that he was actually going to do what he said he was going to do.

Erin noticed that no one really took any notice of Moody’s innuendo…it seemed that they were all so used to hearing his paranoid accusations against Severus, it was just so much background noise. Even Severus didn’t bite, but Erin could see that his jaw was tight, as if his teeth were clamped together in an effort not to retaliate verbally.

Erin was getting angrier and angrier on Severus’s behalf. Moody had risen with the teapot in hand and stumped across the kitchen to the stove. He deliberately knocked against Severus’s arm as he walked past. Severus glared into the mangled face and Moody smirked at him.

“Apologies Snape,” he drawled nastily as he put the teapot down and took out his wand to banish the sodden tealeaves. “I forgot you were here…on the sidelines, taking up valuable space but not contributing much in the way of valuable information.”

“Alastor!”

But before Dumbledore could admonish further, Moody had spun towards the doorway into the living room, his wand raised and a hex falling from his lips as soon as he saw the movement out of his magical eye.

Stupef…

“NO!” Severus knocked Moody’s arm down, but all he managed to do was deflect the jet of red light into the doorjamb where it dislodged a chunk of painted wood. The young boy standing in the doorway cried out in pain and bent over, clutching his face.

“You bloody fool!” Severus pushed roughly past Moody as Erin and everyone else at the table jumped to their feet. Erin rushed after Severus, who was guiding the boy into a chair and pulling his hands down from his face to reveal a nasty gash right in the corner of his right eye. Blood was flowing freely down Aidan’s cheek.

Severus’s lips went white with fury. As he drew out his wand to repair the damage, he glared over at Moody whose wand arm was still being held down at his side by Bill.

“Alastor, you knew that there were children in the house,” said Dumbledore angrily.

“I saw a perfect stranger!” said Moody defensively, wresting his arm from Bill’s grip.

“A stranger, but a child!” shrieked Molly.

“That is Harry,” said Dumbledore heavily, and he sighed wearily. “He is under the influence of Polyjuice potion and Severus has not had time to give him the antidote.”

Moody had the good grace to grow a little pale himself. “Potter?”

“You knew he was here, Mad-Eye!” inserted Bill, angrily. “Along with my little brother and sister. You didn’t even stop to see who it was. Whoever it was though, had to have been in the house, right? You know what the wards are like around here. No Death Eater would have been able to get through without one hell of a noise.”

“I saw a stranger!” said Moody gruffly

“You saw a movement at the bloody door and you fired first with the intention of asking questions later!”

“It was a Stunning Spell, Weasley…not the Killing Curse!” bawled Moody, defensively.

“Thank God for small mercies.”

“That will do, Bill,” said Arthur, putting a hand on his son’s arm. “Mad-Eye knows he’s made a mistake. Harry appears to be fine, thank Merlin.”

They looked towards the huddle of people surrounding the chair Severus had thrust Harry into. Bill and Arthur moved forward and after a second, Moody stumped after them. Severus had just lowered his wand and all that could now be seen on Aidan’s face was a thin pink line that would disappear entirely in time.

Severus was rising to his feet and shaking his head. “I have never had the misfortune to know a more accident-prone individual in my life, Potter,” he said, but his tone was more exasperated than condemnatory.

“Severus!” said Erin and Molly together.

Harry suddenly realised that he was surrounded by a veritable Quidditch World Cup crowd and he sank down into the depths of the chair, his face burning. “Yeah…well, this wasn’t exactly an accident, was it?” he mumbled, catching sight of Moody at the back of the crowd, from between Molly and Remus.

Everyone turned to glare at Moody. The ex-Auror’s mangled face went a blotchy red and he shuffled his mismatched legs. “I’m sorry, Potter,” he said gruffly. “I…I let vigilance override due care. I didn’t look before I started firing off hexes. I let my personal grievances…” here, Moody rested his muddy-coloured, normal eye on Severus, “…upset my judgement.”

“Well,” said Harry, “maybe you might have stopped yourself if you hadn’t seen a perfect stranger.” He turned to Severus. “I know it isn’t any kind of improvement, but do you think I could maybe start looking like myself again, now that we’ve reached our destination?”

Severus nodded. He stepped back and grasped Erin’s arm above her elbow, pulling her with him. “Would you get my bag from the bedroom?”

Erin nodded and moved towards the stairs. She smiled at Ginny and Ron who had just entered the living room. Ron continued on into the room but Erin grasped Ginny’s arm, much like Severus had just done to her. “He’s OK, Ginny. He’s totally lucid again.”

Ginny gestured towards the dispersing crowd; Molly was chivvying Harry into the kitchen and Ron was following his friend, his hands thrust into the pockets of his tan cords. “Why is everyone here?” Ginny asked, slightly bewildered by the large crowd in her home at such an early hour.

“Umm…Professor Dumbledore needed to talk to the Order.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “You know about the Order?”

“Not much,” prevaricated Erin. “Now, go and let your mum feed you. I think that’s when she’s happiest.”

Ginny smiled. “If I ate everything mum wanted me to, I’d be the size of Hogwarts.”

Erin doubted very much that Ginny Weasley would ever be anything but very petite, despite her mother’s best efforts. She hurried up the stairs to get Severus’s never-ending bag.

When Erin returned, she heard Tonks and Kingsley making their farewells to Dumbledore; they were both on duty for the Ministry. She couldn’t see Moody, so she presumed that he had already left. She had passed Arthur on the stairs; he was going to finish getting ready for work.

Erin handed Severus his bag; he was standing with Remus and Bill, who were talking in low tones. With a tight smile, Severus took the bag, opened it and pointed his wand into the opening, summoning the potion.

“Has the newspaper been banished or whatever it is you wizards do to get rid of things?” Erin asked Remus in an undertone.

Remus smiled. “It was gone when we came back into the kitchen,” he said reassuringly. “Albus rarely overlooks anything. He would have banished it immediately Mad-Eye pointed his wand, even before he was fully aware of what Mad-Eye was reacting to.” They watched as Harry drank the potion and over the next thirty seconds, turned back into himself. Ron clapped him on the back and said, “Welcome back mate. No offence, but I’m glad my best mate is no longer twelve years old.”

Harry grinned. “Tell me about it. The only good part about being Aidan was that I had twenty-twenty vision.” He took the glasses that Severus was holding out for him and put them on.

Remus sighed. “He is the living image of his father,” he said, half to himself.

“Really?” said Erin. “You knew his father?”

“We were best friends.” There was a wealth of sadness in Remus’ voice and Erin squeezed his arm sympathetically. Severus looked across at them at that moment and his face hardened.

“That’s why you care for Harry so much,” she said.

“I was one of his honorary uncles. And I didn’t see him again until three years ago, when I taught at Hogwarts for a year.” Remus sounded bitter.

“How did you lose contact?”

Remus looked down at Erin and smiled. “It’s a long…”

“I know…it’s a long story. There are more long stories that no one is willing to tell me than I can poke a stick at,” said Erin unable to hide the peevishness in her tone.

Remus grinned at her. “Sorry,” he said in his husky voice. “One day, I promise I will tell you.”

“Why not tell her now, Lupin?” suggested Severus, coming to stand before them. Remus’ smile did not disappear all together, but it did slip a little.

“My story is pretty boring, Severus,” he said. “And we have far more important things to concentrate on at the moment.”

“It will only take seconds to say the words, Lupin,” said Severus, a clear challenge in his voice. Erin could clearly hear the aggression in Severus’s tone and when Remus’ smile disappeared, her irritation with the pair of them broke over her. She grabbed a fistful of each of one of their sleeves and dragged them both into the living room. Both men were so surprised, they moved passively.

When they were well away from any prying ears, Erin released her grip on both men and faced them, her hands on her hips and her face set and angry. “I haven’t seen that much of Remus since I entered this world, but what I have seen proves to me that he is a good man. And you Severus, are a good man, but it has not escaped my notice that few people belong to the Severus Snape fan club.

“It has also not escaped my notice that of all the people I have met so far, you Severus, are the only one who seems to have a grudge against Remus. So, before you fall all over yourself trying to give me clues as to why you are perfectly justified in sniping at your fellow Order member all the time, I will save you the effort. I know that Remus is a werewolf.”

Severus’s brows drew together and Remus went white with shock. “You know?” he croaked.

“Yes, Remus, I know. I heard a Death Eater talking to Severus when we were in Diagon Alley and he spoke of a werewolf protecting ‘the girl’.”

“You heard that?” said Severus, darkly.

“Yes. And all I can say is, ‘so what’? Two weeks ago, I didn’t believe in witches and wizards, hags and goblins, nor any of the other strange phenomena I have encountered in this world. A werewolf is just one more of those fairytale creatures that I have found out are true.”

“And as I know that the fairytale werewolves are pretty close to the mark, then you know why I dislike Lupin,” Severus bit out.

“No, Severus…that is a reason to dislike werewolves during the full moon. But you know Remus…you know that he is a good man. I know that you know! He saved my life, after all.”

Severus’s face set in mutinous lines. “You have no idea what you are talking about.” Erin thought that was a pretty feeble comeback, but before she could challenge his assertion, the Floo flared bright green. All three of them turned towards the fireplace and Erin gasped when she saw the face of a young woman sitting amidst the magical green flames.

“Hermione!” Remus gratefully broke away from the threesome huddle and moved towards the fireplace. Molly entered the room, having heard the roar of the Floo again, and Arthur reappeared from upstairs.

“Hermione dear, why are you calling so early?” asked Molly moving closer to the fireplace.

“Professor Lupin, Mrs Weasley…err, good morning.”

Remus looked at Hermione closely and noticed even through the curtain of green, the distressed look on her face and the evidence of recent tears.

“Hermione, what is it?” asked Remus. “What’s wrong.”

Hermione bit her lip. “I was wondering if you know where Harry is? I’ve been on holiday with my parents, but we got home last night. I…I’ve been getting the Prophet and have seen all the horrible things that have been happening. And today…today…”

Albus, who had entered the room, shutting the door behind him, spoke. “Do not say another word, Miss Granger. Would you please go and inform your parents to expect a visitor through the Floo, momentarily.”

“Y…yes, sir,” said Hermione, totally shell-shocked at seeing her headmaster at the Burrow and too bemused to do anything but what she was told. Her head disappeared forthwith.

“A complication I had not factored in,” said Albus, turning to the others. “She will have to be told, of course, now that she has seen the paper. Molly, Arthur…will it stretch your hospitality too far to have another guest?”

“Not at all, Albus,” answered Molly. “Hermione is always welcome here. We’ll manage.”

Dumbledore nodded and turned to Remus. “Would you go through, Remus, and ask the Grangers if Hermione can come and stay? She is better off here with her friends than alone and wondering what is going on. I know you can be diplomatic. Explain to her. Make sure she understands that Harry, Ron and Ginny are not to know what was in that Prophet. Her address is: Sixteen, Burgess Terrace, Oxford.”

Remus nodded and taking some Floo powder from the container on the mantel, he stepped into the fireplace and disappeared. Dumbledore turned to Arthur.

“This has made me realise that our plan is full of holes. Arthur, can you please stop off and see the twins on your way to work. They will have seen the paper, and I am sure, in their concern for Harry, they will also be dropping in to check out the situation. Is there any chance that Percy…”

“None!” said Arthur, succinctly. “You do not need to worry that Percy will try to contact us in any way.” He put his arm around Molly’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. He kissed her on the temple, knowing how upset she would be to hear their third son’s name mentioned. “I’ll write to Charlie when I get to work. He gets the Prophet over there. I’ll make sure he understands not to send any letters referring to the subject.”

After Arthur had disappeared, Albus turned to Molly, Severus and Erin, who was still looking shocked at having seen a disembodied head in the fireplace. Somehow, that was much more shocking than seeing a person step into or out of those magical flames. “I must get back to Hogwarts. Rufus Scrimgeour and his minions are still there and I cannot leave Minerva any longer to try to keep them occupied while I am absent. Today’s headlines will have sent them into even more of a frenzy and I have no doubt they will be threatening me with all sorts of dire consequences if I do not tell them where Harry is.”

“But won’t they think of here, Albus? After all, it is no secret that Harry and Ron are best friends and that Harry has stayed here before.”

“Oh, they have already thought of it Molly. I have assured them that Harry is not here, and there is no way that they can get here to check it out themselves. For the time being, we do not have to worry, unless Rufus really starts throwing his weight around.”

Albus turned to Severus. “You will start today?”

Severus nodded.

Albus took Molly’s hand and bowed over it. “Thank you for allowing me to turn your house into a circus, Molly. You have been most gracious.” Then he too, disappeared in a flash of green fire.

Erin looked at Severus, her eyebrows raised. “Start what?”

“Interrogating fellow Death Eaters.”

Ron, replete after finishing his plate of bacon and eggs, picked up his glass of pumpkin juice and glanced towards the other end of the long table, trying to be surreptitious. He moved his foot sideways until he felt Harry’s foot, then he nudged it persistently until Harry looked at him.

“What?” mouthed Harry. Ron, eyes exaggeratedly wide, indicated with a sideways tilt of his head that Harry should look towards the end of the table. Harry obliged, but he really didn’t have to look to know that he would see Erin and Snape sitting close together, with Erin looking pale and worried, her hands wrapped around her teacup as if she needed the warmth. Snape had just finished polishing off a plate of breakfast, but it looked as if the food had given him stomach ache if the sour look on his face was anything to go by.

Harry looked away; there was something going on because Mrs Weasley, although trying to put a good face on it, was also very pale. But as usual, nobody was going to tell the kiddies anything.

“What’s with them?” asked Ron out of the corner of his mouth. Harry shrugged but Ron chuntered on, regardless of Harry’s lack of enthusiasm for the subject. “She looks like she’s going to be sick, and I don’t blame her, sitting so close to the greasy git.

Harry bit his tongue; Ron had been catching Harry up with his news ever since they had sat down, with Ginny, who was sitting opposite them, listening and offering up the odd comment. When Ron had paused in his recitation of his so far boring holiday, Ginny had tentatively brought up the subject of what had happened in Little Whinging. She reached out to touch Harry’s hand where it lay on the table, expressing her sympathy over the loss of his aunt and cousin.

Harry had left his hand there; it had felt nice. Ginny too, didn’t immediately pull away and when Harry had looked at her, her chocolate eyes had stared back and their expression had been all soft and warm. Harry had felt a little squiggle in the region of his stomach. That was when Harry slowly extricated his hand on the pretext of picking up his glass of pumpkin juice.

Ron was fiddling with the salt cellar. He had gone red with embarrassment when Ginny had mentioned Harry’s sufferings, realising that he probably should have said something before his little sister did, as he was Harry’s best friend. He had mumbled his own condolences, but Harry, who was still trying to get his head around the fact that Ginny had just made him feel like Cho had when he had been infatuated with her, just nodded brusquely in acknowledgement of Ron’s words.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to distract himself from thoughts of Ginny. He tentatively probed that place in his mind where he had filed the Dursleys. It was an uncomfortable subject. Harry felt immensely guilty because he hadn’t really addressed his emotional response to the deaths of the last of his family; he had still not fully worked out how he felt.

He knew he should be mourning, but whenever errant thoughts of the Dursleys popped into his head, he forced them out again. The little trickle of emotions that invariably accompanied these hastily suppressed thoughts were mostly made up of anger and resentment rather than sorrow, and this was at the root of his guilt.

After Dumbledore had admitted to him that his aunt and cousin were dead, Harry had felt totally numb. Oh, he knew he had asked questions, but it was as if he had been speaking from the end of a long tunnel, and the voices from the other end had kept on moving further and further away. He could remember feeling sick and panicky when he had learned about the rest of the horror that had been perpetrated that night. Then Snape had come to the rescue, and he had spent a fair bit of time virtually unconscious or semi-conscious, thanks to Calming and Sleeping Draughts.

He had been shocked, yes, but he had also still been suffering the after effects of the treatment meted out by his uncle…the shock from the injuries that had not totally worn off, as well as the residual pain; it was all too easy to ignore thoughts of the demise of Aunt Petunia and Dudley. Anger and resentment forced their way to the forefront of his thoughts each time, blocking out the sorrow. And that was the sad part. His sorrow was more for the fact that he could not really feel sorrow, rather than the fact that they were dead.

“Stop ogling them, Ron!” hissed Ginny, leaning on her forearms to bring her face closer to her brother’s. “For heaven’s sake, will you grow up?”

Harry tuned back into what was going on around him.

Ron’s ears went red, at his sister’s admonition, but he looked unrepentant. “I'm not ogling him!” he said bluntly. “I'm ogling her. She’s a bit of all right.”

Harry wished he was still daydreaming. He sat in stony silence glaring at his glass of pumpkin juice. Ginny shook her head and rolled her eyes. “A bit out of your league, brother dear. She has to be at least ten years older than you.”

Harry stood up abruptly. Everyone around the table looked up at him and to cover his abrupt movement, he picked up his empty plate and took it to the sink. Mrs Weasley took it from him with a smile. “Have you had enough to eat, Harry dear?”

“Yes thanks, Mrs Weasley. I might go and have a shower if that’s OK.” Molly patted Harry’s newly healed cheek.

“Of course it’s all right. You know you don’t have to stand on ceremony here.”

Harry smiled. “Umm, will I be staying in the twin’s room or will I be in with Ron?”

“You’ll be back in with Ron, dear. Erin will need the twin’s room.”

Surprised, Harry turned to Erin and Severus. He had thought that now he was well again, Erin would be leaving with Snape. “You’re staying?” he asked.

Erin threw him a tight little smile. “For a little while.”

Harry’s brows drew together. What was going on? Now that he was safely at the Burrow, and considering that Snape and Erin had become so close, Harry had assumed that Erin would be going back to Hogwarts with him. Erin didn’t look happy, so Harry knew that something untoward had happened.

He looked at Snape, but before he could say anything, Severus stood, lifting his holdall off the floor where it had been resting near his feet.

“You’ll want your trunk, Potter,” he said brusquely. “Show me where you’ll be sleeping and I’ll enlarge it for you there, so that it doesn’t have to be dragged up the stairs.

Harry knew Snape wanted to talk to him, so he acquiesced, turning to Ron and Ginny before he led the way to Ron’s room. “See you guys in a bit,” he said, ignoring Ron’s aghast expression, knowing that it meant, the greasy git is going into my room! Harry was going to have to try and find a way to change Ron’s favourite sobriquet for Snape; it didn’t sit comfortably with him anymore, and that was going to take some explaining to his friend. How did you tell your best mate that you no longer hated the man who had mentally and verbally tortured you for the last five years, and whom you had blamed for helping bring about the death of your Godfather?

Harry sighed as he led the way up the stairs. Ron would definitely think that he was barking. He silently agreed with that probable assessment of his mental state.

On the top landing, Harry opened the door and led the way into the cramped room. He watched Snape’s eyes widen at the orange light that nearly knocked him back a pace. He suppressed a grin when he saw the man shudder.

Harry sat on the end of Ron’s bed and watched as Snape rested his holdall near Ron’s pillow and summoned the tiny trunk from within its capacious depths. Severus lowered the trunk to rest in the biggest area of free space—which was hardly adequate to house the trunk—and Harry knew he had silently incanted engorgio when it enlarged to its original size.

“When do we learn how to do non-verbal spells?” asked Harry, having seen Snape and Professor Dumbledore do impressive magic without uttering any sound, at various times throughout the holiday.

“You begin this coming year,” answered Severus in an indifferent voice. “Some wizards never master the art. If you are going to have any success, you will find that you have already performed non-verbal, accidental magic. Can you recall any times, before you started at Hogwarts, that something occurred that would normally require an incantation?”

Harry’s thoughts immediately flew to the vanishing glass in the snake enclosure at the zoo, and Aunt Marge bobbing around on the ceiling. But there were other instances also.

“Well?” said Severus, more than a little curious to know what the boy might have done before he had even found out he was a wizard.

“Umm, well, I can remember toys that I might have wanted when I was little, flying across the room to me.” Severus raised his eyebrows but Harry missed the surprised look. “Funny though, I can’t remember actually summoning the toys. My…my cousin generally had them and I knew I wasn’t allowed to have them. It was just that I wanted them so badly.”

Harry left out the handful of occasions he had been shut up under the stairs, starving hungry, but able to smell the delicious aromas of cooking, and suddenly, the locked door had sprung open and a near full plate of food had appeared before him. The accompanying wails of outrage that accompanied the food into the space under the stairs had always made Harry aware that instead of being able to eat that food, he was going to receive a hiding instead. He had quickly learned to bury his face under the thin excuse for a pillow and breathe through his mouth if he was locked up and denied food.

“Anything else?” asked Severus, intrigued. Most accidental magic performed by underage wizards consisted of things shaking or vibrating where they stood when a temper tantrum was being enacted.

Severus could remember an occasion when he had desperately summoned his mother upstairs and away from a violent and drunk Tobias Snape. Severus had been six years old and he had cried out in shock when his locked bedroom door had burst open and his mother had sailed through to land, non-too-gently on his lumpy bed. His mother had been crying hysterically, and Tobias’s rage had made him almost insane. He had finished doling out the beating he had been subjecting his wife to before she had shot away from him, and he had then started on his ‘worthless and freakish’ son.

Like Harry, who had tried to escape tantalising smells under his pillow, Severus had covered his head with his pillow and squashed it tight over his ears from that time onwards when his parents were fighting, willing himself not to do anymore accidental magic. Any time he ever interfered when Tobias was drunk, his mother’s beatings had become even worse and he, Severus had also suffered physically.

Harry’s voice brought Severus out of his reverie. “I banished the plate glass from a snake enclosure at the zoo once. That was just before I found out I was a wizard. My uncle wasn’t best pleased with that little display. And I blew up—well, inflated really—my uncle’s sister just before third year when she made me really angry. She floated up to the ceiling.”

Severus couldn’t hide his astonishment this time. “You used an engorgement charm on your uncle’s sister?” he asked incredulously.

“I suppose so. I thought I would be expelled for that one. Fudge tried to use it against me when I was brought before the full sitting of the Wizengamot for breaching the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy when I fought off the Dementors in Little Whinging.

“It turns out though, that he was just spouting so much hot air, because I hadn’t used a wand on Aunt Marge, and accidental magic doesn’t count, even though I wasn’t under eleven when that happened. Professor Dumbledore eventually told me that.” Harry frowned darkly. Last years long silence from Dumbledore when Harry had most needed to confide in him, still rankled.

Severus, of course, as part of the Order, had learned of Fudge’s vendetta against Harry, and even being deeply immersed as he had been at that time, in his hatred of anything ‘Potter’, he had been shocked at the lengths the idiot Minister would go to discredit the boy, and hence, Dumbledore. It had been obvious to all of them that Fudge would quite happily have sent a fifteen year old boy to Azkaban if he had won the day.

Severus pushed these musings away, wanting to learn more about Harry’s remarkable accidental magic. It was apparent that the boy had no idea that these displays of accidental magic were anything out of the ordinary. Not so long ago, Severus would have scoffed at these examples, taking them for lies. He knew better now. Harry was not relating these episodes to boast…he was just answering the questions put to him.

“Anything else?” Severus repeated his earlier question. Harry shrugged again.

“Just little things…I turned one of my teacher’s hair, blue. Once in a while, I was able to hide myself from Dudley and his gang just by being really still; for some reason, they couldn’t see me.” Harry gestured that was that, but then he back-tracked. “Oh, yeah…once when Dudley and the gang were chasing me at school, I went to jump in behind a big rubbish skip. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the school roof.”

Severus couldn’t help himself; his mouth fell open. He closed it again pretty quickly, it going entirely against the grain for him to ever appear gormless. Harry had Apparated when he was…

“How old were you when you did that?” Severus asked feebly.

“About nine, I think,” said Harry.

Severus took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to tell Harry that it was almost unheard of for a wizard to be able to Apparate without a wand. He had never heard of it being done accidentally by an underage wizard.

“I do not think you will have much trouble mastering non-verbal spells,” was all he said in response to this remarkable litany of accidental magic. “Concentration is the key.”

Or fear, obviously.

An awkward silence fell, and Harry, who had his elbows resting on his thighs, kept his eyes fixed on his clasped hands dangling between his knees. He could feel Snape staring at him, but he didn’t feel the whip-like slashes of pure hatred that those fathomless black eyes usually flayed him with…he hadn’t felt that for quite a while now.

Severus put his holdall on the floor. “Lay back, Harry. I want to check your pupils.” That was another thing; Harry didn’t think he would ever get used to Snape using his given name. As he shuffled far enough up the bed to put his head on the pillow, he reflected that now that they were at the Burrow, Snape could easily have reverted to his hateful Slytherin self and the use of the ubiquitous ‘Potter’. As Harry lay down, he found that he was oddly pleased that he hadn’t.

Severus spent five minutes examining Harry’s eyes from every angle and asking him questions about what he remembered. No new memories had surfaced…he remembered everything up to the roadside restaurant, and then nothing until he had woken here in the early hours of the morning. Harry asked the same questions he had asked Erin, and got the same answers. He still couldn’t believe that he has been so bloody clumsy as to slip on wet tiles. As he sat up, he mumbled words to that effect and Snape assured him that anyone could slip on a wet floor in a bathroom, just as Erin had done. The reassurance did not make him feel any less stupid, however.

“Right, Harry. I have to leave. Just take it easy for a while…absolutely no flying for at least two days. Is that clear?”

“But you said that I’m OK now.”

“And so it would appear. But just to be on the safe side, I want you to do nothing more energetic than play wizard’s chess or exploding snap.”

“I’m not allowed outside!”

“If you can be trusted just to walk around the garden, or sit under a tree and read.”

“You have got to be kidding?” said Harry, and when he saw Snape smirk, he knew he had been.

“Heaven forbid that you should open a book unless I am breathing down your neck as I did at the Haven. But you seemed to enjoy your little bit of research there. Certainly, you put more effort into that Potions assignment than you usually do.”

Harry shrugged. “I was in a virtual detention, and I had no distractions.”

“And as distractions abound here at the Burrow, I presume your diligence towards your homework will be conspicuous by its absence.”

Harry shrugged again, and Severus rolled his eyes. “Just behave yourself. Bill Weasley will be here for the duration, and I will be giving him…”

“What did Voldemort want last night?” Harry blurted the words out before he could think better of it. He stiffened his spine when Severus turned back from where he now stood with his hand on the doorknob and drilled him with his basilisk’s glare.

“I know you were summoned,” said Harry. “I woke up and you were gone. And my scar was prickling.”

“You do not have to worry about what the Dark Lord wants, Potter. The adults have everything well in hand.”

“Really?” said Harry, noting the renewed use of ‘Potter’, but he ploughed on, wondering where this new-found courage had come from. He gestured to Severus’s discoloured eye. “If that’s what’s left after last night, I can only imagine what you looked like before you started on the potions and salves.”

Severus took a step forward, forcing Harry to back up so that the back of his legs banged into Ron’s bed and he nearly ended up on his bum. He leaned back even further when Snape thrust his substantial beak right in his face; the tips of both their noses practically bumped.

“It would not be wise to make me angry, Potter. You are fifteen year…”

“I’m nearly sixteen!” corrected Harry angrily. “I should be able to know what’s going on as I’m the one who has to end it all!”

Severus drew himself up and crossed his arms, looking his usual menacing self. “You do have designs on yourself, don’t you?”

Harry pressed his lips together. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait. He wasn’t going to lose his temper completely. When he spoke, his voice was restrained; he hardly moved his lips, as if he was afraid that if he opened them too wide, he would start yelling. “I know that you know about the prophecy, Professor. You know what it says. And don’t tell me that it’s a load of airy-fairy nonsense.”

Harry tapped his scar. “What’s this all about if the prophecy is rubbish? Why do I have this connection with him?” He swallowed. “I don’t want this bloody destiny hanging over my head. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even Malfoy. What hope have I got of killing him? I haven’t got anything special in the way of powers, regardless of what Dumbledore thinks.”

Severus was silent for several long heartbeats as he looked into the anguished green eyes of the child who really did have the weight of the world on his thin shoulders. Then he sighed. He knew Harry was at the centre of the Dark Lord’s plans; the man had made his own worst enemy and continued to emphasise Harry’s importance by his continued persecution of the boy. Severus knew that was because he did not know the full contents of the prophecy and he was becoming more and more desperate to dispatch Harry Potter.

But he couldn’t tell Harry any of that; he had to try and defuse his worries, if that was at all possible.

“Prophecies are notoriously ambiguous, Harry. Even if the prophecy referring to you and the Dark Lord is true, now is obviously not the time for any sort of confrontation. Now is the time for you to continue on with your studies and make yourself the best wizard that you can.” Severus winced inwardly at how condescending he sounded. And the look on the boy’s face showed exactly what he thought of Severus’s sentiments.

“So in other words, just be a good little boy and let the adults get on with things!”

“Precisely,” said Severus and he infused the word with some of his usual asperity.

Harry glared. “Right! I suppose I’ll just have to learn about the murder and mayhem after the fact, just like the rest of the magical world. I’ll read the bloody Prophet!”

Harry pushed his way past Severus to open the door, and coward that he was, Severus let him go, wondering what he would think when no daily newspaper arrived for him to peruse.

8888

Harry bumped into Ron halfway down the stairs. “What took so long?” asked Ron, glancing up towards his room.

“He had to examine me,” said Harry brusquely. “Come on, let’s go outside. I need some fresh air.” And before Ron could respond, Harry clattered away. Ron stood irresolute for a moment, but then he heard footsteps descending from above, and he took off after Harry without any further delay.

Erin looked up from where she and Molly were sitting and talking quietly together when Harry passed through the kitchen and out the back door, Ron not very far behind. She and Molly exchanged silent glances, both of them thinking that their task of keeping Harry and the other kids in the dark was going to be challenging, to say the least.

When Severus appeared in the doorway, Erin could see that he was planning on leaving immediately and her face became set. Molly, now firmly in Erin’s camp, and realising that Severus’s departure was going to be difficult for her, patted her hand. “Go and see him off,” she said quietly, before picking up both their cups and moving to the sink to finish the dishes.

Molly had never been a fan of Severus Snape’s, but he had been caring for and protecting Harry over the last little while and anyone who was so caught up in their common goal of protecting that poor boy was definitely in her good books. Also, knowing that there was an attractive young woman who cared very deeply for the irascible man and that he returned those feelings, somehow made Severus seem much more human to her than he ever had before. No woman would fall in love with a cold, nasty and highly unpleasant person unless she saw a great deal more beneath that very gruff, and rather unattractive exterior. And somehow, Severus no longer looked quite as unattractive as he had always appeared to her before.

Severus led the way back into the living room. “Harry didn’t look happy,” said Erin, determined to delay the moment of departure. It had been all she could do not to race after Harry and Severus, to make sure they did not resume hostilities.

Severus, however, didn’t want to waste time; he knew delay would only make his departure more difficult. He drew Erin into his arms, linking his fingers at the base of her spine and looking down at her worried countenance.

“He’s a teenager. That’s par for the course, isn’t it?”

“Sev, don’t be flippant. What is he upset about now?”

“He wants to know what is going on. And he will not stop trying to find out, I assure you. If he becomes too painful, Bill is here to rein him in.”

Erin sighed and leaned her forehead against Severus’s chest. “I can understand his frustration. He knows something is going on, and he is at the centre of it all. And yet, everyone is trying to keep him in the dark.”

“You don’t honestly think he should be told?” asked Severus. Erin felt the rumble of his beautiful, rich voice through his chest. She felt the words as well as heard them. “You’ve known him long enough to know how impetuous he is.”

“No, of course not. He needs to be protected from himself, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand his frustration.”

“He’s a typical Gryffindor,” said Severus, and the words were far from complimentary. “He is one of those fools who rush in where angels fear to tread. He is ridiculously blasé when it comes to his own safety but he thinks it is his job to keep everyone else in the world safe.”

Erin lifted her head again and after studying Severus’s dear, unattractive face for a few seconds, she stood on tiptoe to bestow a fleeting kiss on his lips. “Much like one of his teachers,” she whispered.

Twin slashes of colour appeared on Severus’s cheeks. He wasn’t sure whether to be defensive or pleased. He chose the former. “The difference, my love, is that I am an adult and am experienced in the tasks that I need to do.”

Erin was distracted for a few seconds by the words, ‘my love’. That sexy voice did more for those two words than any other voice in the history of man had ever managed to do. At least for her, it did. Erin hugged the knowledge of that love to herself, which made her next words even more heartfelt than they would have been.

“Severus, we’re not talking about making one of your potions! What you are going to do over the next however long it’s going to take, is dangerous because you cannot possibly know all of the variables. How do you know that this creep Voldemort doesn’t suspect you?”

Severus winced slightly at hearing the Dark Lord referred to as ‘this creep Voldemort’. He wondered what the most powerful dark wizard ever known, would think of being thus labelled…and by a Muggle female, no less. The Dark Lord was not a fan of equality of the sexes. Oh, it pleased him to let Bellatrix think that she was his right hand ‘man’, but it was only to keep her under his control. She was too much of a loose canon if allowed to stray too far from his side.

Severus was willing to bet a year’s worth of his less than spectacular salary that he would not be at all happy that a Muggle female had the audacity to deride him thus. There was more than a decided lack of respect in the way Erin referred to him…there was total disdain. He would really have to talk to her about her attitude. But now, all he said was, “I imagine he suspects us all, being as paranoid as he is. But he cannot do what he wants to do by himself. He needs lackeys to do his bidding.”

If Severus thought that that would make Erin feel better, he was sadly mistaken. She stepped back from him and crossed her arms, looking furious. “I swear Severus Snape, if anything happens to you during this…this operation, you had better hope that they kill you, because you won’t enjoy the means I will employ to kill you.”

Despite the danger he was heading into, Severus couldn’t help the tiny twitch of his lips at Erin's threat. She saw the twitch and her face became even more set, her eyes narrowed to slits. She opened her mouth to rail at him, but Severus grabbed her wrist, dragged her up against him and planted his mouth firmly upon hers before she could get an angry word out.

The kiss was really, really delicious, and Severus took his time, but when Erin stood alone a minute later, staring through tear-filled eyes at the empty grate, that delicious kiss was little consolation. She had been frightened enough last night when Severus had gone off to liaise with the murdering scumbag and his scumbag cohorts, but today, he was going off to seemingly socialise with some of them, and that was making her really, really terrified.

8888

After a minute of useless inactivity, and battling the tears that continued to star her vision, but which Erin refused to let fall, she turned towards the kitchen, only to spin back around when the Floo flared again.

Her momentarily deactivated heart began to beat again when, instead of Severus, a young girl with severely restrained hair pulled back in a tight braid stepped from the fireplace with Remus following immediately behind, his hand clamped around her upper arm to steady her.

Remus smiled at Erin and ever the gentleman, he effected introductions immediately. The two females smiled at each other.

“Hermione is the stabilizing influence for Harry and Ron,” said Remus in an affectionate voice. “She is their voice of reason.” Hermione blushed and Erin thought she might be a little sensitive about being labelled the ‘sensible’ one.

“Well, I don’t know Ron very well yet, but I have gotten to know Harry and a stabilizing influence would certainly not go astray for him.” Hermione smiled again and Erin could see the hastily repaired ravages of recent tears. Erin reached out and squeezed the young girl’s forearm. “And he could certainly do with all his friends around him at the moment. They’re out in the back yard, I think.”

“Thanks,” said Hermione and she turned to Remus. But he cut her off before she could speak.

“Go and find them, Hermione. I’ll take your backpack up to Ginny’s room. And don’t forget, not a single word about what you know.”

Hermione’s pale face seemed to whiten further, but she nodded resolutely. “Thanks Professor Lupin.”

“Remus,” he reminded her and after another tight little smile, Hermione went to join her friends.

Remus turned to Erin, noting her strained features. “Severus has left I take it?”

Erin could only nod miserably and then, much to her mortification, she felt tears well up and immediately overflow. She would have turned away, wishing to spare Remus the sight of a sobbing female, but he stopped her by the simple expedient of putting his arms around her and drawing her to him.

Erin didn’t fight Remus’ hold too hard; she needed the contact and she did like Remus, regardless of his affliction. She did wonder at Severus’s aversion to the man; it couldn’t solely be because of Remus’ problem because all of the other wizards she had met were perfectly happy to be around him. And Tonks was more than happy…she radiated joy whenever she was with Remus. Erin sensed that there was another story to be told when it came to Remus and Severus…just one more story in the great, long list of stories that she needed to be told to get a fix on the situation that she had landed herself in the middle of, and the people who were the main players in this painful saga.

But at the moment, Erin didn’t want to hear explanations…she just wanted to know that Severus would be safe…and that was something no one could assure her of. Still, it was nice to be comforted and to know that she wasn’t alone.

Remus rubbed a comforting circle on Erin’s back before fishing in his robes and producing a clean handkerchief. He gently extricated himself from Erin's fisted hold on his robes and smiled down at her. “Here,” he said, and smiled gently. “You need some mopping up.”

Erin huffed out a little laugh and took the hanky. “Not as much as I would have done.” She indicated the front of Remus’ robes where the evidence of her tears had left a dark patch. “Sorry about that. And sorry for being such a wuss.”

“”Don’t be silly,” said Remus. “We can all be pretty wussy when we’re worried about the ones we care for.” He put a hand on Erin’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t tell you unequivocally that Severus will come out of this unscathed, Erin. But I can tell you that if anyone can interrogate people without them realising that they are being interrogated, it is Severus. He is very good at what he does.”

At that moment, Bill came clattering down the stairs. He saw immediately the ravages of Erin’s tears. She looked away and continued to blot her eyes.

Bill looked at Remus. “Hermione’s here, then?” he asked, and Remus, recognising the strategy, answered in the affirmative and the two wizards moved towards the kitchen, leaving Erin to head for the stairs and the bathroom to tidy herself up.

8888

Harry had been telling the tale of his adventures since they had separated at Kings Cross Station at the beginning of the holiday to Ron and Ginny. They had only been told the bare bones of what had happened at Privet Drive by their parents, and Harry knew that he had to fill in some more of the details. But though Harry cleared some things up for them, he was not going to tell them exactly what his uncle had done to him. They only knew he had been hurt—but not the extent of his injuries—and that Snape had rescued him before the Death Eater attack and taken him back to Hogwarts before attending to his injuries.

Ron and Ginny had both been shocked to learn that their foul Potions teacher was also a healer. When Ron had expressed his horror of the fact that Harry had been so intimately touched by Snape, Ginny had punched his arm viciously and glared daggers at him. Harry was grateful…Ron did tend to go on, and Harry definitely didn’t want to get into any Snape-bashing with his friend.

After Ginny’s none to subtle signal that he was being insensitive, Ron had managed to keep his reaction to Harry’s enforced stay with Snape on the Scottish isle down to nothing more than a pained grimace. All he had said was that it was lucky that Erin had been there to act as a buffer.

“But what is it with the two of them?” asked Ron. Harry was sitting with his back against the trunk of the huge old oak tree in the Burrow’s back yard. Ginny was sitting cross-legged and Ron was lying on his side on the grass, facing Harry. Harry shrugged.

“I mean,” said Ron, “she’s a babe, like I said earlier. She can’t possibly be attracted…”

“Why don’t you shut up before you put your whole foot in your mouth, Ron?” said Ginny with asperity. Harry smiled tightly at her, thankful that she was running interference. He noticed that Ginny had grown a little since the last time he had seen her—or maybe she had looked this hot at Hogwarts and he had been so mixed up about Cho for so long, he hadn’t noticed.

As Ron and Ginny bickered, Harry’s eyes ran over his best friend’s little sister. Ginny had been a part of his life for nearly as long as Ron had. He had never seen her as anything but Ron’s little sister…he sometimes felt like she was his own little sister. She had just always been there, and he had saved her life down in the Chamber of Secrets.

But no brother ever checked his sister out like Harry was now checking Ginny out. How come he had never really registered just how pretty she was? Those brown eyes, so different to Ron’s blue ones, were like melted chocolate. She had inherited her mother’s lack of height, but her father’s slimness; she was very petite, about a head shorter than him and Merlin knew, he wasn’t tall.

Yeah, Ginny had grown, but not really in height…she had grown a nice little pair of…Harry wrenched his eyes away from Ginny’s nicely filled out T-shirt. He knew that his cheeks were burning.

What the hell am I doing? She’s Ron’s little sister…she’s Ginny for God’s sake!

Harry had never been so happy to see Hermione. She was crossing the yard to join them. “Hermione!” he cried, and Ron and Ginny twisted around, grins splitting their faces. Ron sprang to his feet, his blue eyes sparkling. Ginny and Harry also stood.

“Hey, ‘Mione,” Ron said happily. Hermione grinned at them all, but Harry thought she looked a little strained. He was shocked when after giving Ginny and Ron perfunctory hugs, she flung herself into his arms, knocking him back into the tree trunk, and clinging to him as if she would never let him go.

Ron frowned, and Ginny’s eyebrows climbed into her fringe. They looked at each other and then back at Harry as he stared at them, wide-eyed and confused, from over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Erm, Hermione, you can let go now,” said Harry, tentatively.

Hermione gave Harry an extra-tight squeeze before lowering her arms and stepping back.

“So, you felt an overwhelming need to strangle Harry as soon as you saw him?” asked Ron, a note of forced jocularity in his voice. Harry was rubbing the back of his head where it had struck the tree trunk.

“Sorry Harry,” said Hermione, contritely. “But I’m just so relieved that you’re all right.”

Harry didn’t want to go through all of this again. “Look, I’m fine…really.” He held his arms out from his sides and planted a grin on his lips. “Don’t I look all right?”

Hermione bit her lip. “I can see you’re physically all right…” her eyes honed in on the fresh, pink scar that adorned Harry’s face near his eye. The wound Moody had given him had survived his transformation from Aidan to Harry. “…But Harry, you must be upset about your aunt and c…”

“Hermione, Harry doesn’t want to talk about that anymore. It only make things worse to have to keep dredging things up all the time.” Ginny had come to his rescue again.

Hermione’s eyes scanned his face, as if trying to find evidence of deep-seated trauma. It obviously peeved her to have to back off, but she did, though Harry wasn’t optimistic enough to think that her dropping of the subject was permanent. His bossy friend was the most determined person he had ever met in his life.

“So,” said Ginny brightly, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “how was France?”

After a last look at Harry where she appeared to be scanning him for more elusive signs of suffering, Hermione followed Ginny’s lead, and arranging herself neatly on the grass with the others following suit, she launched into a detailed description of her time in France, where her parents had bought a small house on the outskirts of a picturesque village. Hermione told them all that they were all invited to go with her and her parents for a holiday whenever it was permissible for them to do so. Harry gloomily thought that Dumbledore would no more allow him go flitting off to France for a holiday than he would allow him to confront Voldemort right now.

Harry continued to listen without really taking much more in. He was studying Hermione’s now-animated face. Why had she clung to him so desperately? She had obviously been brought up to date with his adventures over the last couple of weeks so she would know that he had survived, fully intact. She also knew as well as anyone did, just what his relationship with the Dursleys had been like. She could not possibly think that he was actively mourning them.

Sure, he would never have wished for their deaths…well, perhaps Uncle Vernon, and look where that wish had gotten him? He had been the only one to survive. The bastard!

No, Hermione was worried about something else. If she knew him well, then he knew her equally as well, and the fact that she had dropped the subject of his sufferings so easily meant that she had realised that she needed to pull her head in before she gave something away. And when she kept shooting sneaky little glances at him, Harry definitely knew that there was something going on.

What is she hiding? Harry looked towards the house. And why the hell had there been so many members of the Order of the Phoenix here so early this morning?